Aurora Australis
by Jocelyn
Summary: The Hansens' story, from Lucky Seven and the Mark-1 glory days to Striker Eureka and the decline and fall of the Jaeger Program. Ch. 7: The summer of 2017 saw the launch of the Mark-3 Jaegers, and the introduction of Lucky Seven's new Shatterdome-mate, Vulcan Specter. But Scott Hansen's way with the ladies (or lack thereof) spells trouble for teamwork.
1. The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

_**Author's Notes**: And so it begins, my Hansen story! None of the other fics in this series are required reading - this is a "co-prequel" to the movie. It begins before the events of any of my other fics, but it will eventually merge with them. This first chapter is a little short, basically a prologue, but I will try to have weekly updates. Enjoy, and please remember to leave feedback!_

**Aurora Australis**

**Chapter One: The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea**

_September 2, 2014…  
><em>_Sydney, Australia…_

There were many dramatic stories about Scissure. Hercules Hansen didn't like hearing a single damned one of them. But there was no escaping the fact that his family's sensational tale was bandied about in the press, in the pubs, and within the ranks of the armed forces who struggled to rally against the invaders.

Everyone talked about Hercules Hansen, one of the pilots who went rogue in the final hour and the desperate choice he had to make, to try to save someone in his family. Hercules Hansen, who single-handedly stole a helicopter to save his child and had to leave his wife to die.

Herc never talked about it, except to correct the tactless asses who dared to bring it up in his hearing: "I wasn't alone. Scott was with me. Without him, we'd never have made it."

That was his story, and he stuck to it for five years. For some reason, people didn't think it was as compelling a tale if Herc hadn't been alone. Hercules Hansen's hooligan younger brother being the one who'd helped him accomplish that heart-wrenching save didn't seem as romantic in the eyes of the media – and for years, even after they became Australia's first home-grown Jaeger pilots, Herc and Scott both knew it. The idea that Scott Hansen would have a side that cared more about family than chasing women and gambling on races didn't fit the role that the media (and their comrades) wanted him to play.

Herc knew different. At least, for five years, he thought he did.

To Scott's credit, however out-of-hand his tastes in recreation, he doted on his nephew and had always dropped whatever he was doing to help out when Herc and his family needed it. He could turn his attention from his gambling and his girls when the chips were down.

And the chips had never been further down than that day in Sydney.

When the countdown to the second bomb began for downtown, Scott was the one who punched out the second MP who'd tried to stop Herc from taking that Bell Kiowa. He dove into the co-pilot's seat. "GO!" He was watching the time as Herc pushed the old chopper to its limits. "Fuck. _Fuck!_ There's not enough time - Jesus, Herc, we've got one bloody shot, and if we're not out of range, we're all dead!"

He didn't tell Herc what choice to make, and Herc didn't ask him.

He knew without Herc having to say where they were going when they veered towards the smaller buildings outside the financial center. He just checked their fuel reserves and weight. "Time?" Herc yelled as they descended onto ball field.

"Nineteen minutes. Keep the blades going. I'll get him." The door was open before they touched down, and Scott ran. His feet barely touched the ground.

There were school buses and a jammed mass of cars and minivans on the roads surrounding the school buildings. Nothing on the ground was moving. The air was an endless stream of desperate honks and screams of terror and desperation and the wail of sirens. There were other choppers in the area; Herc kept an eye on their rotors and their paths as some of them made for the school's playground to land. Some people ran towards them, pleading, waving wallets, infants and children in their arms, but Herc was blind to everyone else once he saw Scott again.

His brother was tearing back from the mob of people near the buses, still sprinting full-tilt with a wild-eyed, shouting bundle in his arms.

_Chuck... Chuck. _Herc's son looked more bewildered than scared, gasping something at his uncle, arms around Scott's neck. _My son..._

Scott was yelling at the people who were trailing after him, warning them off. " - we can't take more! That one takes eleven!" he roared, pointing at one of the bigger transports further down the field.

By some miracle, it wasn't a fight to get Scott and Chuck back in with Herc past any desperate crowds. People were still too confused to really battle for a seat yet. Scott hauled himself and Chuck on board and yanked the door closed, not bothering to buckle them in. "GO!"

"Dad?" Chuck croaked.

"Hang on tight, son," Herc warned, and relied on Scott to keep himself or Chuck from slamming into the windshield as he roared into the air, dodging trees, power lines, and other helicopters as if it were a combat mission.

Scott even managed to rein in the worst profanity as they were jolted against the bulkheads. He braced their young charge in a bear hug. "Shh, shh, you're all right now, Boyo." But his voice went grim and hard when he looked at the clock. "Eleven minutes."

Still in shock, Chuck peered over Scott's shoulder, eyes huge as he looked at his father. "Are we gonna get Mum now?"

_Oh, god. _Herc's hand hovered over the throttle as he turned them inland. Eleven minutes. There was already a massive plume of smoke rising above the city center... all the movement he could see was to the north side. That bloody motherfucker from hell had already made a few passes through downtown, and Herc couldn't even tell where it was at the moment. Scott had a radio to his ear with one hand, still bracing Chuck with the other. "Location?"

"Middle Harbor. Moving north, but..." Scott glowered out the window. "They're still saying ten minutes to detonation."

_God fucking damn it. _He opened the throttle and turned them southeast. As far as they could get. Away from Sydney. Away from that indestructible, godforsaken thing.

Away from his wife, away from the mother of his child. "Dad... what about Mum?" Chuck repeated.

"No time," he mumbled, keeping his eyes forward. Had to watch the radar, keep an eye out for crossing traffic. It was chaos out there. "There's a bomb coming. There's no time; we can't find her."

_Forgive me, Angela. _

Who was he kidding? Of course, she'd forgive him. She'd scoff and say there was nothing to forgive. Herc was doing precisely what she'd ask - what she'd demand. Angie would be screaming her head off if she thought he was even considering doing anything else. Saving their boy, getting her baby the hell away from this nightmare. She'd tell him to do precisely this.

He dared a quick look at his boy, with Angela's strawberry blond hair and a complexion lighter than Herc's ruddy color. Cheeks streaked with tears he didn't seem to realize he was shedding, staring at his dad in disbelief at what they were doing. Leaving Sydney behind. Leaving his mum to her fate.

How did you explain to an eleven-year-old that the movie monster ripping apart his home had probably already crushed his mother to death - if she was lucky - and even if it hadn't, they were all going to get incinerated if they weren't at least ten miles out in ten more minutes. Half the buildings in the city center were already down. Hell, that stinking thing had gone right over the school itself, judging by the destruction trail Herc had seen from above as he approached. Only its squat size among the larger buildings had saved it from being stepped on.

_She's probably already dead. And even if she weren't, even if I had her on the phone, she'd be telling me to step on the gas. _

Five minutes later, Scott was wrangling with the seat straps to get himself and Chuck locked in, and forcing Chuck to hide his face in his chest under his jacket. "Whatever you do, don't look around," he admonished the boy. "Herc. HERC! Glasses. You won't do us any good flash-blind."

Herc growled bitterly at him but let his brother shove the shades over his nose. Eyes squeezed shut, arms wrapped around Chuck with the radio propped against his ear, Scott counted. "Four... three... two... one..."

Herc took the measure of their nearest airspace and shut his eyes for the count of a few more seconds, just to be safe. If there were tears that escaped when he opened them again, well, the shades hid that too.

Only a little turbulence got them at that altitude. They were flying into a head wind. So that would spare them the fallout, blowing the worst of it out to sea. Scott fumbled at the radio for a few minutes as they went, aimless now, just putting extra distance between themselves and what was behind them.

Finally, Herc's brother mumbled, "Richmond Air Base is in the clear. They're calling all units and personnel who can hear to regroup there."

"Right." Sixty kilometers west of Sydney, RAAF Base Richmond would safe even if the nuke had been an ICBM with a couple of megatons. Herc had no idea how large the bomb had been, and didn't especially want to know. It didn't matter. Anyone still downtown when it had hit was almost certainly dead or dying.

Herc turned them in a long arc towards the northwest of Sydney, and Scott's breath caught along with his own when they saw the mushroom cloud. In Scott's arms, Chuck tried to squirm around, and Herc muttered, "No."

Scott tightened his grip, his chin on top of Chuck's head. "Stay where you are, Chucky. Just like I said; keep your face covered." They were well past the blast or the flash, but they both knew that wasn't what they to keep from Chuck now. Herc's brother muttered wearily, "It'll get around soon. Pictures'll be everywhere."

"I know," Herc replied. Chuck would see it, probably within a few days, this sight of his mother's death. "Not here. Not like this."

_**To be continued...**_

_**Coming Soon:**__ Australia's military families struggle to move on after Scissure, and their PPDC liaison approaches Herc and Scott to attempt a far-fetched training for the new line of walking weapons being prepared to battle the kaiju. But if they both go, where will that leave eleven-year-old Chuck in __**Chapter Two: Priorities**__._

**PLEASE don't forget to review!**


	2. Priorities

_**A/N**__: Wow, thank you all so much for the feedback on this story! Please keep it coming! This chapter introduces several original characters, listed at the end._

**Chapter Two: Priorities**

_Richmond Air Base, Australia…_

Before Scissure, Herc and Scott Hansen would have laughed off the idea of piloting a machine that required them to see into each other's minds.

After Scissure... well, everything was different everywhere. Herc and Scott certainly weren't the only ones whose relationship changed, even changed for the better.

They went from a responsible, dutiful (neglectful) soldier and a ne'er-do-well, perpetually-broke womanizer who really only tolerated each other for blood's sake to... a family, after they staggered out of a ratty old Bell Kiowa onto RAAF Base Richmond with a traumatized eleven-year-old between them. Widower, motherless boy, and stunned uncle wandered into the base as shell-shocked MPs and medics took names, checked for injuries, and found them places to sleep and rations to eat.

Chuck was among a surprisingly-large crowd of children carried to the base in the arms of Australia's servicemen and women. Many managed that by flagrantly violating regulations in that last hour. The big cargo chopper that Scott had pointed the other parents to hadn't made it out of town. Maybe they hadn't made it off the ground as the panic set in. But a heavy transport helicopter had managed to get out of Killarney Heights - nearly ground zero - with two dozen kids from a primary school. Whether any of those kids weren't now orphaned remained to be seen, but still, it was a spectacular save.

At least there were enough caretakers on the base housing to look after the kids. Once Herc was satisfied that he knew where Chuck would be looked after, he and Scott went to work. The RAAF hadn't had much use for Scott once he washed out of officer training, but they would take any pair of hands now.

For those first three months after most of Sydney was obliterated, its survivors muddled along and wondered how long it would be before the next attack. And where the next kaiju would go.

In December, humanity finally had abit of good news. A fleet of submarines and deep-sea sonar vessels had deployed in concentric circles around the Breach, and spotted the bastard as he made his way towards South America. Their instruments managed to track him, with the crews occasionally having to abandon their ships if they got too close and were spotted. But they bought the newly-formed Pan Pacific Defense Corps enough time to organize a response, and three underwater nuclear launches managed to kill Verocitor while he was well off the Chilean coast.

But that had taken no less than _three _nuclear missiles. How many more of these things could humanity afford to launch against the kaiju… and on the flip side, would they ever have a weapon that could actually kill the bastards that didn't amount to sacrificing everyone in the blast zone?

* * *

><p>When word got around that the PPDC was seeking test pilots for this new line of walking weapons in Alaska, Herc and Scott had exchanged a look. It sounded pretty outlandish, but then again... look at what they were up against.<p>

But Herc had his doubts when Air Vice Marshall Ketteridge asked him to come to Kodiak Island as a potential test pilot. Scott had his back on the reason: "What happens to his kid if he gets killed in testing? Boy's already lost his mother."

The news that the first test pilot had died before the system worked out didn't really make Herc feel likely to change his mind... until spring 2015, and Ketteridge approached him again. "There's another issue, Hansen. A new one. Not just anyone can pilot these mechs. They have to have _two _pilots."

"Sounds a bit more complicated than a Hornet," Scott pointed out. Then he stared at Ketteridge. "What the hell are you looking at me for; I washed out of flight school!"

"I've heard," the Air Vice Marshall said wryly. "I wasn't talking about flying skills. These _Jaegers_ are piloted by mind control."

"With respect, Vice Marshall, what the hell have you been smoking?" asked Scott. Herc elbowed his brother irritably. Adding "with respect" didn't make it respectful.

Ketteridge just shook his head. "I know it sounds ridiculous, men. I had to have the brainiacs explain it to me a dozen times before I halfway believed them. But I was there for the second test a week ago, and the prototype does look like it can fight. There are seven more being built, to be battle-ready by the end of the year. Australia's footing the bill for at least one, maybe two."

"So why us?" Herc asked.

"We've got no shortage of volunteers; that's not the problem anymore. Plenty of people from plenty of countries want a crack at these kaiju bastards. Smart men, strong men, we've got. But this... _neural bridge_ that lets the pilots control the mech, it needs compatibility. You can just plug two random blokes into it and have it work. They've been trying; most people aren't compatible with each other."

Herc frowned to himself. "Some sort of _mental _compatibility?"

"Right. The current test pilot matched up with the girl who invented the bloody thing; they're a couple. He's US Army, and used to fly with another pilot who's got a twin brother. They called the brother in, the twins are compatible, so they're training up. And China's got a brother and sister who just passed the testing." Ketteridge flourished his hands. "Hence me talking to you. We need matched pairs."

"What about my kid?" Herc asked.

The way Ketteridge shrugged got his hackles up, and Scott's too. "Find him a school - "

Both Hansens started talking at once. "Just one bloody minute - "

"Really, Vice Marshall? You come to me with this and tell me to pack my boy off out of the way - "

" - That's NOT what I said - "

" - Try again, then," Herc snarled. "My son's not a bloody afterthought! Either he goes with me or Command better come up with one hell of a good provision for him, because if he's _not _provided for, show's over! Command wrote off my _wife _to kill that fucking scum in Sydney; I'm not giving up my boy for the cause too!"

Ketteridge scowled. "And Command _didn't _charge you with desertion or theft for your actions, Hansen."

It was the wrong card to play. Herc had to grab Scott's arm to hold him back, but didn't hesitate to get into the Air Vice Marshall's face himself. "No, because you know damn well that if you charged me, you'd be charging more than half the remaining personnel on this base with taking that one hour you gave us to save _somebody _in our families. And all I've got to do is pass the word along that you're still trying to throw what's left of our children to the wolves, and we'll see how much your command is worth."

_You stand there sneering in your starched suit and talk about duty and honor and sacrifice, and you _still_ want me to leave my kid for dead! What the hell is the point of all this? _

The three men stood, with Herc and Ketteridge almost toe-to-toe, but it was the Air Vice Marshall who blinked. "The Jaeger base hasn't got housing for families yet. They're working on it, but it'll be months. And we need Rangers to start now if those ships are going to be ready to deploy. The last attack was four months ago."

"How long's this training? And what happens after?" asked Scott. "Do we stay in Alaska or come back here? You said one of these robots is for Australia."

Breathing a little easier, Ketteridge beckoned them into his office and pulled up some schematics on the desktop. "We're building a launch facility in Sydney - outside the exclusion zone. Even before that, we'll have one of those machines here on the continent for our defense. If I have my way, you'll be back here as soon as that ship's up and running, maybe as little as six months." He sighed, showing a little of the same strain that Herc knew everyone in the trenches had been feeling since Scissure. "You're not the only one who lost family in Sydney, Hansen, and you're not the only one trying to hang on to whoever's left. I'll sign off on your son staying here in family housing until you're back, if you'll agree to go."

Herc exchanged a long look with his brother. _You're desperate; I get that. I can't very well blame you. But this is my kid. _"Give us a minute," he muttered, and he and Scott left the room.

"What do you think? You trust him?" Scott muttered.

"Damn it, I'm not sure." If there was another attack, if Herc were called to combat, that'd be one thing. He'd go. Anything for the chance to take a shot at these otherworldly fuckers who'd obliterated his home and killed his wife... or had it been the kaiju that killed his wife and not the bloody, blundering honchos and their nukes?

Was that fair of him? The second nuke had finally killed Scissure. Would he ever know if that had been Angela's death or if the monster had taken her first?

"_You're not the only one trying to hang on to whoever's left..." _Maybe even Air Vice Marshall Ketteridge, with his crisp ties and polished shoes and dismissive attitude was still walking around with the after-image of that mushroom cloud burned into his eyelids, never able to make it go away no matter where he turned or how busy he tried to make himself.

Scott was dubious. "You and me, mind-melding? Dunno how that's gonna work, big brother. And what'll we do about Boyo?"

"If you go with me, I need someone else's name on paper," Herc finally said. "If I got called up, it'd be you keeping the kid, but if we both have to do it, we need someone else."

Scott leaned against the wall, pondering that. "You know I'd look after him. Not that I'd turn down the chance to shoot a missile or ten into these bastards' teeth." He and Herc shared an unashamed, bloodthirsty smile.

_"Here's to blue blood!_" was a popular new toast in the pubs. Toxic or not, they all loved the sight of it, because it meant those pieces of shit were hurting.

Up until now, Scott was doing mechanical work on the base while Herc was on duty, but his shifts were still shorter than Herc's. He was the one who picked Chuck up from the minders and dropped him off in the mornings most days.

"You had the chance to talk to any of them? Anyone he especially likes among the kids? Somebody's Mum, maybe, might be willing to watch over him for a while?" Herc mused.

He wondered what it said about his fitness as a father that he didn't have a bloody clue.

* * *

><p>The only time Herc really paid attention to what was going on during Chuck's days was when the teachers and minders reported him getting into fights with the other kids.<p>

The elderly doctor who was charged with more or less the entire population of the family housing had assembled Herc and a small army of fellow parents to report their kids' "behavioral issues" early on. He'd assured them all that aggression and frustration and volatile emotions were to be expected among children and teenagers who'd survived such trauma, and of course, he and his staff would keep working. But the poor bastard had to deal with nearly fifty kids, so Herc had his doubts about what actual attention Chuck himself would ever get.

Hell, even Chuck's own father could barely make time for him during waking hours.

_But he stays with me. I'm not shipping him off to a boarding school, not while I have any say in the matter. In the end, I'm the one who'll be responsible for him, not some headmaster. _

Scott had a few ideas: a fellow parent or two who had kids near Chuck's age, and others who'd just seemed attentive and sympathetic with him. Going to visit those flats, seeing kids who (at least on the surface) looked reasonably content and adjusted, most of them with mothers, Herc couldn't help wondering if maybe Chuck would prefer their situation to the one he was stuck in now.

It rankled him to discover that Ketteridge and the brass had anticipated them. The very first mother they talked with muttered in Herc's ear that a handsome stipend was being offered to anybody who took in a prospective Ranger's child.

"I don't blame you at all for wanting to keep him, mate," she told Herc. "But we can't do it, not with Danny and his sister such wrecks after Sydney." Her husband was a pilot like Herc, and the oldest daughter had worked in Sydney - and died of radiation exposure. They had a boy a year older than Chuck and a little blonde girl that made Herc think of Angela. Angie had wanted at least one of each, and when he'd imagined her daughter – she'd looked a lot like that in his mind's eye. The siblings seemed calm and relaxed when Herc visited, but he knew that what went on behind the scenes could well be different. "It's no criticism against your boy either. Danny, well... boys his age can be a bit high-strung to begin with. After his big sister died, his dad and me have our hands full."

Herc fought frustration after the third such conversation, but managed to reassure every parent he met that he had no hard feelings. They all had to look to their own kids first. Herc wouldn't be willing to take on another kid if he were in their shoes, not when he could barely provide for his own.

They finally hit pay dirt with one of the minders. Marian Taior was a tough-as-nails Aboriginal woman who'd spent her life on the margins of Australia's cities and still managed not to hate everything and everyone. There weren't a lot of people who could make Herc count himself lucky, but she did, and he thought (or hoped) that maybe Chuck would be the same. She'd been living to the west of the base doing odd jobs, mostly supported by her five children and nine grandchildren. Only the youngest of the five, Kyrra, was still alive, and none of the grandkids. Kyrra was an aeronautical engineer, working in Brisbane when Scissure hit. She was now preparing to join Australia's delegation to this new Jaeger Program. Marian worked through her own grief by helping to look after the base's displaced children.

"Sure, he can stay with me," Marian told Herc when he explained the situation. "I see him every day as it is." Herc looked away, taking it as a rebuke, but the older woman snorted. She was old enough to be his mother, and looked it. All the same, he had his suspicions that she'd still be alive and kicking once he'd run himself into an early grave. "You're not the only one who's had to make this choice, lad. You won't be the last either."

"I haven't even told him I'm going yet," Herc admitted. "Let alone that he'll have to stay or who he'll be staying with."

"He won't thank you." She was completely blunt, but he could respect that. The thin, weary smile she gave him was a comfort, small as any comfort was these days. "They never do. Hell, even if these giant robots of theirs work, I can't say if I'll thank anyone. All but one of my babies and grandbabies I've outlived now. What's there to thank anyone for?"

Here was someone he could trust with his son. Herc wasn't one for clean, sterile offices, books, and charts. He went with his gut in all things, and it rarely led him wrong. Except that these days, his gut felt as tired as the rest of him, and it was all he could not to think that he and his family were screwed no matter what he did.

"Just swear to me you'll keep him safe. Look after him until I get back," he muttered. To the casual observer, it would sound more like a threat than a plea... but this woman, this fellow parent, no doubt she could see through his brusque tone for what he was really doing: begging.

_He's all I've got left, and I fucking hate myself for even thinking of leaving him, but I've still got a job to do and too many scruples to abandon it altogether, so now I'm selling my soul and abandoning him. Tell me you understand, tell me you'll protect him. _

"I swear," Marian replied, with aged eyes and a rough hand that briefly covered his. In a split-second, she let him go, and he stepped back, but the bargain was struck. "Keep an eye on my last girl for me. She doesn't need much protecting anymore; she can handle herself. But... put in a word now and then. Get her to call home."

To Herc's amazement, a smile tugged at his lips. He didn't smile much anymore. "Done and done."

_**To be continued...**_

_**Coming Soon:**__ Herc breaks the news to Chuck that he and Scott are leaving to train for the Jaeger Program. It goes as well as can be expected (translation: not well.) But April 2015 brings a new kaiju attack, and a giant mech called Brawler Yukon gives humanity (and the Hansens) a spark of hope they so desperately need in __**Chapter Three: Deals and Promises**__!_

**PLEASE don't forget to review!**

**Original Character Guide**

Air Vice Marshall Blake Ketteridge: Commanding Officer of Richmond Air Base, where many of the Sydney military survivors and families regrouped after Scissure. Soon to become Australia's senior liaison to the PPDC.

Marian Taior: One of the child minders of Richmond Air Base's family housing, an elderly Aboriginal woman who lost four of her five children and all of her grandchildren in Sydney. She agrees to serve as Chuck's guardian while Herc and Scott are training in Anchorage.

Kyrra Taior: Aeronautical engineer, Marian's youngest and sole surviving daughter, around age 40. She has been recruited to train for the Jaeger Program along with Herc and Scott.


	3. Deals and Promises

_**Author's Note:** Many thanks to all for the reviews and comments! Please keep them coming! I promise, the mood of this fic isn't entirely grim. It has begun at a low point in a new war.  
><em>

**Chapter Three: Deals and Promises**

_April 2015…  
>Richmond Air Base, Australia…<em>

Marian Taior was right: Chuck wasn't about to thank him. The kid just stared at him when Herc awkwardly explained that he and Scott were off to Alaska for god-knew-how-long, and Chuck would be living with one of the minders from school until they were back.

"I've got no say in it, do I?" Chuck finally mumbled. "No say in anything."

"No." _You're eleven, of course, it's not up to you. _"You don't have to like it. I don't like it either. But I've got a job to do."

"Yeah, I know," the kid hissed, glaring daggers at their small table. "I know where I bloody rank in the scheme of things. Makes me wonder why you bothered coming after me in Sydney!" He didn't yell; Chuck rarely yelled at anyone old enough to kick his ass, but he could put enough venom in his voice to get the message across.

That was ironic, really. He'd picked that particular trait up from his dad, not his mum. Angela had been the one who tended to raise her voice.

Herc rubbed his eyes as Scott thudded his head against the wall once Chuck had stomped out of the flat. "That went well."

"Shut up."

Scott came up and smacked his head from behind. "Dunno how you expect him to smarten up when you won't! Bloody get your head out of your ass, Herc; he's not dead and neither are we!"

"What's your POINT?!" Herc demanded, spinning around. "Am I supposed to forget his mother's in ashes in Sydney along with every friend he ever had?! This two-room closet's gonna be his happy home from here on out, since Command _will _have me shot if I try to get him out of here!"

"Maybe remember you're not the only poor bastard who's lost someone! A few of 'em out there have even managed to not walk around with a black cloud over their heads competing for the title of Most Miserable!" Scott shot back. "Especially the ones who've got a kid depending on 'em!"

"FUCK YOU! Like anything ever reaches you at the bottom of a bottle with a whore on your arm, gambling cash you haven't got!"

"We can't all follow your sterling example, and how's that working for you now?!" They stopped two inches from each other's faces - or, to be fair, Scott did. "Ah, fuck." He turned away and started to laugh. "And Ketteridge thinks we can pilot a giant robot with our brains."

After everything that'd happened, all the years and frustrations and often miles between them, Scott was still the one who could make Herc laugh the quickest. And when he least expected to be able to. It came bubbling out of Herc's chest again, past months of dead weight like hard-packed ash and stone that he'd been carrying around, trying so hard to breathe around it. It was nearly impossible to focus on anyone else. Not even his boy.

_Sorry, Angie. I'm no good at this without you. Hell, I wasn't much good at it with you. _

Walking a few paces around the table, Herc looked away to pretend his shaky voice was all amusement and nothing else. "We can't all be eternal jokesters, Scotty."

"You know I didn't mean that. I didn't mean you can't miss her. She was one of a kind, and I'm not saying that because I was hot for her, whatever you might think." Herc snorted.

A few of his colleagues (or rather, their wives) had cast harsh eyes on Scott and remarked that Herc shouldn't let him be around Angela during his deployments. Herc had known better. His brother might be irresponsible with money, irresponsible with women, irresponsible with work, but behind it all was still a good man. Scott didn't bother married women or underage girls. Sometimes Herc suspected it was more due to Scott's desire to keep life as uncomplicated as possible than any noble sentiment or honor, but either way, the result was the same. And Scott's loyalty to family was absolute. As a result, Herc trusted him that far – which was a hell of a lot farther than he trusted most other people.

Scott rarely gave a damn what other people thought, but the gossip about his doings with his brother's wife and son bothered him enough that he'd even approached Herc once or twice. "_Whatever you might think of me, I'm not that kind of man._"

"_Take it easy, you little ratbag. I believe you. Pay them no mind; I don't_." Herc had meant it, and Scott hadn't let him down. It had all culminated with Scissure, and his brother carrying his son back to the chopper and not questioning Herc once on his choice.

"I didn't. I trusted you, _and _I trusted her." Funny, talking about her at this moment didn't sting so much. "She wasn't your type."

Scott chuckled. "Yeah, she was a stick-in-the-mud too, 'specially when the sprog came along." He meant it playfully, so it was all right... mostly. But if Herc thought about it too much, that sting would grow into a throb and the weight in his chest would erupt like a bomb, and he couldn't let that happen. His brother saw it or sensed it, and changed the subject in a hurry. "I got a good vibe from Marian. She'll look after him."

"You know what she told me? He won't thank me." Herc rubbed his gritty, burning eyes. "I knew even before I told him, that she's right. He won't ever thank me for coming after him in Sydney. He definitely won't thank me for this."

"Well, he's eleven. That's not the most grateful age to start with."

Sometimes Herc thought that despite Scott's avowed disinterest in child-rearing, he was better suited for it than Chuck's actual father. He was the one who'd taught Chuck boxing and one-on-one rugby when Herc was out of the country before K-Day. After K-Day, Scott was the one who brought the kid the first model planes to start replacing the collection he lost in Sydney. He'd cheerfully signed on to drive a truck of the oldest kids out for a day in the mountains off-base as Herc kept on piloting recovery missions in and out of Sydney.

Would Chuck ever understand that Dad was busy because he was trying to get just a few more people out of that godforsaken city? Would it matter to him one day that his father's choppers had carried doctors and rescue workers and brought back mothers and babies and kids his age?

Chuck sometimes relaxed when a couple of the recovery crews were walking around with their rescue dogs. He liked animals better than people. (Hell, Herc rather agreed with him most days.)

"You ought to get him a puppy," Scott suggested as they got ready to leave for Alaska.

"And who'd pay for feeding it? Marian's stipend'll barely feed a kid with his appetite," Herc said. The residents of family housing were good about trading and sharing, making allowances for the tweens in the throes of growth spurts or the little ones whose appetites were up and down from stress and trauma. The kids of the base didn't go without necessities, but there wasn't much margin for extras. The search and rescue dogs doubled as therapy dogs on-base, and their handlers regularly brought them to family housing and the daycare, but a single-family pet was out of the question.

Nine months ago, he could've done it. Angela would've been all for it. She liked everything with extra legs, but their last few housing units hadn't allowed dogs or cats. They'd had a few turtles, now and then a fish, and a couple of budgies that Chuck absolutely adored - especially the one Scott had patiently taught to curse, much to Angela's outrage. What had that noisy green bird's name been? Herc couldn't remember anymore.

Scott waggled a tablet in front of him with the PPDC's benefits information. "If we make pilot, you can afford one. You should tell him before we go, make it like Obama running for President. That'd make him feel better about it."

Herc shook his head. "I'm not making him promises when we've got no idea what'll happen in six months. It's bad enough he can't rely on the world not to try to kill him with alien sea monsters."

* * *

><p><em>April 23, 2015…<em>

He knew Scott thought he was hard on the kid, and maybe Scott wasn't wrong.

But even before they left, Scott had to admit he had a point, since the Breach under the Marianas Trench spat out another of those fucking beasts. This one headed northeast, straight towards Alaska, making everyone wonder if there would even be a base there after it was over.

Herc spent most of the alert in the base conference rooms with the other RAAF pilots, listening to the brass arguing about how or whether to send aid and wondering what he'd do if he was called on.

Then came the Jaeger.

Unlike the bewildered reporters commenting on the broadcast, Herc and most of his colleagues could read the situation. He knew even before the thing was dead that humanity was winning this one.

Chaos was already unfolding on the base, but it was good chaos, celebratory mayhem. Herc ran out into it without a thought, and wasn't even truly aware of where he was trying to go – at first. But he kept running until he found the room where the minders had gathered the kids.

The teachers and doctors had told the parents they would always keep the televisions off when the alerts went out, to try and prevent the kids from getting traumatized all over again. Today was different. When Herc arrived in the schoolroom, the broadcast of the events in Vancouver was running.

The news announcers were shouting out the narration of every blow the Jaeger struck against the kaiju, and there was not a tear to be seen in the schoolroom. The kids were cheering wildly, shrieking encouragement to the giant machine as it pummeled the monster into the Vancouver streets. Other parents and guardians on the base were of Herc's mindset, and joined him crowding through the doors in search of their children. They shoved through the mob of unruly kids to find their own and sweep them into their arms even as the reporters bellowed that the creature was dead.

Chuck leapt into Herc's arms without even hesitating, roaring triumph. Somehow they were spinning around, and Herc was barely aware that he himself was bellowing and laughing too, like he hadn't done since before K-Day. In the dizzy swirl of pumping fists and waving arms and tear-filled eyes and laughing faces, Herc saw Scott, grinning broadly somewhere by the door. As the uproar finally started to die down, Marian Taior herded Herc and Chuck together with a few of the other kids whose relatives had been called to Alaska.

"See there, you lot? It's the beginning of our new army. That's what your oldies are going off to do. You be proud of 'em."

Herc couldn't deny... that soft, collective, "oooh" from the roomful of ankle biters was damn gratifying. But nothing more so than the wide-eyed, awestruck look Chuck cast on him. He hadn't looked at his old man like that in years, even when Angela'd been alive.

* * *

><p>Seeing a Jaeger kill a kaiju wasn't a cure-all for his kid's bitterness at being left alone again. Herc knew better than to hope for that.<p>

But for that last week before the Australian delegation left, Chuck was a bit less sullen and didn't get into any more fights with his peers. He even asked questions, some of which Herc and Scott couldn't answer.

"What makes it move?"

"The pilots. The Jaegers all have two pilots," Scott explained. "It helps if they're related to each other; that's why your old man and me are going up there together. The pilots move it with their mind."

"How do they do that?"

"Dunno, Boyo. Probably a state secret," Scott informed him, grinning at Herc. "So we'll tell you if they tell us."

"_If_ we're allowed," Herc amended it, giving Scott a warning look. Scott rolled his eyes.

"When I'm bigger, can I fly one too?"

Herc nearly choked. Even before K-Day, Chuck had muttered that he hated the choppers Herc flew, defiantly collecting planes instead. He hadn't admitted to wanting to emulate his old man in any way. Even Scott looked stunned speechless for a few seconds. Cautiously, Herc croaked out, "Well... keep up in school, and... we'll see, eh?"

_Is that what a good dad's supposed to say? How the hell would I know? _

One of the mothers shot a video of Scott helping the minders corral the kids outside. He hoisted Chuck onto his back and clomped around the trampled grass with the kid operating his arms, much to everyone's glee. He even hauled two of the toddlers onto his hips so they could be proper Jaeger Rangers and managed to let them steer him jointly around to the rest of the class's cheers and shouts of encouragement. Herc was doubled over laughing when one of the boys near Chuck's age took a turn and made Scott hit himself in the face.

"Misfire! Misfire!" Chuck could be heard shouting.

But in the last few days before Herc and Scott's departure, Chuck's excitement faded, and the sullens came back in full force.

He wasn't talking much at all beyond one-word answers when Herc and Scott packed him and his few belongings up and got him installed at Marian Taior's. She brought him to the airfield, and the boy mumbled through an obviously-rehearsed farewell.

Then he blurted, "You'll come back, right?"

Scott took a hasty step away, and Herc fought not to back off himself. When Chuck cried, when he was scared or lonely, Herc's first instinct was to retreat. It had been Angela's job to handle that, not his.

_Coward, _whispered a voice in his mind that might have been hers. _It's because you're a coward. _

He locked his joints and stayed where he was, crouching on the concrete in front of his kid. Angela was gone. There was no one to take over the tough jobs anymore. His voice was raspy, but he made himself speak. "Yeah, I'll come back. I...I..." _Promise. I promise, son. Your old man'll be back, nothing'll stop me. _Herc was a terrible liar. Hence his refusal to make promises he knew he couldn't keep. "I'll do everything I can do. Get back to you some way." Was that a promise he could keep?

It wasn't enough for his boy, and they all knew it. Scott shot him a cross look as he stood and left the kid standing there with an old woman's hand holding him back by the shoulder. "Once in your bloody lifetime, can you tell your damn kid it'll be all right?!" he hissed in Herc's ear once they were on the plane.

"Fuck off. He's not yours. And I'm not lying to him."

_So I'm a shit father. I knew that already. He can call me a shit father, and I don't deny it. But he can't call me a liar._

**_To be continued..._**

**_Coming Soon: _**_Scott's POV. Far from home, far from Chuck, the Hansens find hope where they least expected it, and join humanity's fighting chance at the newly-formed Jaeger Academy in __**Chapter Four: Meeting of the Minds!**_

**PLEASE don't forget to review!**

**Original Character Guide**

Marian Taior: One of the child minders of Richmond Air Base's family housing, an elderly Aboriginal woman who lost four of her five children and all of her grandchildren in Sydney. She agrees to serve as Chuck's guardian while Herc and Scott are training in Anchorage.

Kyrra Taior: Aeronautical engineer, Marian's youngest and sole surviving daughter, around age 40. She has been recruited to train for the Jaeger Program along with Herc and Scott.


	4. Meeting of the Minds

_**Author's Notes:** Thank you all so much for the reviews and feedback! Please keep it coming! Regarding this chapter and others, you'll notice that it breezes through experiences that took multiple chapters in Aurora Borealis. The reason for that is because this story is dealing with Herc's experience of partnering with two people: his brother and his son. However, the latter relationship is more complicated and very different from any other part of this canon, so rather than be repetitive, I'm glossing over parts of the early years that deal with the struggles brothers have drifting._

_**Headcanon Note:** For more details on the activities, struggles, and shenanigans of the Mark-1 pilots, read Chapters 1-3 of Tales From The Front Lines._

**Chapter Four: Meeting of the Minds**

_Summer 2015…  
><em>_Jaeger Academy, Kodiak Island, Alaska…_

In the back of his mind, Scott did _not _expect drifting with his brother to work. The more he learned about it, the more skeptical he felt. Herc, open up to anyone, let alone his infamously ne'er-do-well younger sibling? That'd be the day.

Apparently, this was that day. And Scott found that Herc was as surprised as he was.

Before they ever got near the simulator and the pons neural bridge, there was physical testing and brain scans and getting their heads shrunk six ways from Sunday by Military Psych. That last part was especially humiliating. Scott's consolation came from the other trainees who were further along, and their reassurance that everyone had to go through it.

"Just roll with it," the American twins urged them. "We're having to adapt a lot of things to take down kaiju. They're giant sea monsters from another planet. Bringing completely different weapons against them, that means we change the way we think too."

"It is awkward," the Chinese brother and sister, Min and Jing, acknowledged. "We can get used to it."

So they did. The prize was sweet enough for Scott when he saw the media lavishing Caitlin Lightcap and Sergio D'onofrio with praise, and set his eyes on the massive mechs under construction in the Assembly Building.

When they finally made their attempt at drifting, Scott still had doubts. But a far greater shock came with his discovery that Herc's doubts lay with himself, not Scott.

_What would Scott want with my stuffy head, anyway? _

_I was a shit husband, still a shit father and a shit brother._

_Yeah, I can hold down a job, but not a family. _

Herc was scared. Scott wouldn't have believed anyone who'd have told him that before (and would probably have knocked their teeth out for suggesting it). His immovable, unflappable big brother was even more scared than Scott of the kaiju, of what it would mean for them all. Scott was disgusted with himself for thinking Hercules Hansen never let anything get to him.

_You knew before now how much he loves that boy, you insensitive idiot. Of course, he's scared. _

* * *

><p>Their first few drifts ended when one or both of them slid to the floor or staggered into the toilet to vomit their guts out, shaking and ripped open and exposed. After each one, they stood outside in that frigid Kodiak air for as long as they could tolerate, until one or both of them feared their noses would fall off. Even during the summer, it got colder than Scott would have ever imagined, and the "warm" part of the season seemed well past by the end of August.<p>

It was several drifts before they managed to actually _talk _about what passed in the drift.

"You're not weak," Scott finally told him. "We'll protect him. We both will. When we've got a Jaeger, we'll protect him better than ever."

"He won't thank us," Herc mumbled. That lashed at Scott, the realization that his brother was all but resigned to never having his son's understanding, let alone his love.

_Tell me again why I should settle down? _Well, when Angela'd been alive, Scott had understood it. He'd envied Herc, not Angela herself, but what she represented: all that storybook true love, devotion, a woman who'd do anything for you and make you want to do anything for her. She'd been a beauty, but too clean and wholesome for Scott's tastes. Perfect for Herc, of course.

Still, as they'd tested in the pons, he'd seen what Herc had seen, the depths of the joy they'd had, and Scott... wondered. Wondered if he would ever be fit for a woman like that.

"Don't be an idiot," Herc told him when he caught that in their practice. "Of course, you are. Maybe not at some of the pubs you went to, but there are plenty of girls who like a good time but still capable of love. Angie and I were drunk off our asses when we met."

Scott laughed. "I already know more about your courtship than I'll _ever _want to know, thanks very much!" Yeah, okay, Herc and Angela had got their party on - among other things - before Chuck came along. Dear God, how Scott had cringed when that went floating around the drift, and Herc had been so red in the face he'd looked like he might pop.

Those moments would be really fucking funny if only somebody else were Herc's partner and not his brother!

At least they weren't the only team who went through some damned awkward moments. About half of the pairs now in contention for Jaegers were related: along with Herc and Scott, there were the Gage twins from the US, a and a pair of fraternal twins from Panama, Carlos and Jordana Chen. There were two Chinese teams: Jing and Min Li, a sister and brother, and Yan-Jie Lim and Fang Lao, who were first cousins.

The married couples, the Kaidanovskys and the Jessops, were interesting teams, but all the rest had at least known each other before showing up at Kodiak. Herc had met Stacker Pentecost and Tamsin Sevier during training and joint operations with the Royal Air Force before K-Day. There was another pair, Maria Lopez and Miguel Blanco, who'd been pilots for the same squadron in the Argentinian Navy.

Pentecost was a rather stuffy bloke – very, _very _British – but he won a lot of points in Scott's estimation for pulling Herc aside a few days after they arrived. Reporters were camped out on every road approaching the base, and a few tactless asses had tried to ambush Herc with questions about his family.

Scott was grateful when he saw the conversation between Herc and Stacker in the drift. _"We had damage reports coming in continuously before the second nuke was dropped. She worked in the MLC Center?"_

Herc had nodded, numb. Nobody'd ever made the effort - or taken the risk - of speaking to him so openly about it before. _"Do you... want to know?" _After a brief hesitation, Herc had nodded again. "_The tower came down during Scissure's first pass, and he went over it twice before the bomb was dropped. They seem to have a thing for tall buildings," _the Briton had muttered. _"If that's any consolation at all - I know it may not be._"

Herc and Scott supposed they had no reason to take Pentecost at his word... but they both wanted to. Herc did think the man was making an effort to tell the truth, and from Pentecost's point of view, it was the truth. But Herc still had his doubts, and Scott shared them. The damage reports that Stacker had seen would've come from the Australian military, so they would have gone through the hands of the ones whose decision it'd been to drop the bomb. They'd have wanted to justify their scorched-Earth decision.

Scott vaguely remembered Stacker and Tamsin from his own brief stint in flight school. They'd been trainers in joint operations with the Brits. Pentecost was the name of a really foxy RAF fighter pilot - that he remembered clearly. Herc managed to warn him before he stuck his foot in his mouth: "That was his little sister, Luna. She got killed in action on K-Day."

_Well, fuck_. No good news to be had for a lot of these prospective Jaeger pilots. Sevier was a sexy little thing, maybe even more Scott's type with her eyebrow piercings and tattoos. But she was practically glued to Pentecost's side. Scott suspected that all the unattached drift partners were going to end up attached by the time this thing was over, and he knew he wasn't the only one who thought so.

* * *

><p><em>Autumn 2015…<em>

There were seven Jaegers rolling out in this "first class" in the autumn of 2015, and another seven set to roll out in 2016. They were declared the Mark-1's and the Mark-2's.

But to the frustration of the UN and PPDC brass (not to mention the prospective pilots), only a fraction of the pilot applicants were succeeding at the drift. Two months in, Scott and Herc were proud – if incredulous – that they themselves were still in the running.

Air Vice Marshall Ketteridge, now the Australian liaison to the PPDC, sent a flood of personnel from every base he could visit. Although it did look like Australia was going to end up with two Jaegers assigned to defend the southwest quarter of the Pacific, so far, the Hansens were the only pair from their shores.

There was quite the brou-ha-ha over the Jessops. Duc was from a Japanese family who'd lived in Australia several generations, but Kaori was born and raised in Tokyo. Ketteridge wanted them for Australia, but Japan also was paying for two Jaegers, and they wanted their one and only successful citizen assigned to them.

"You're just the most popular bloke in the program!" Scott told Duc, who was heartily embarrassed when the UN reps from Japan and Australia looked like they'd start a tug-of-war during the latest vid conference.

"Just so long as everyone remembers who he's married to," said Kaori.

"Sorry, love," said Tamsin. "For God and country, we'll have to arrange a marriage between you and a good local boy, and marry Duc off to an Aussie… how 'bout Scott? Is that legal in Australia yet?"

Herc belly-laughed, the traitor. But even as the Gages prepared to start giving Scott hell, three young faces peered around the corner, drawn by the ruckus. Herc and Pentecost and the more decorous characters hurriedly turned the subject to something tamer, but the Gages and the Chens commenced eavesdropping on the latest round of initial test results.

To everyone's astonishment, the three nearly-identical kids weren't somebody's relatives or offspring: they were drift candidates. Herc and Scott were among those shocked that Jing and Min Li had returned from China's recruiting campaign with three teenaged street fighters in tow. There were a lot of dubious looks exchanged, but the "second stage" pilot candidates (including the Hansens) finally spoke up about it when the Wei triplets passed the initial round of tests and were advanced to formal Jaeger training.

"They're _how _old?!" Herc blurted.

"Sixteen."

"Wait just a minute, that's too damned young!" Pentecost protested.

One of the Gages demanded, "Where the hell are their parents?!"

"They have no family," Min began.

The Chinese brass were collectively shrugging it off. "You did not say there was a minimum age. Two sets of twins have succeeded. Siblings do better."

"Are they even old enough to drive yet?"

"This is too much!"

The whole group started arguing until one of the trio – Scott couldn't begin to tell them apart – remarked, "We speak English." In the embarrassed silence that followed, another of them told the Gages, "We have no parents. We fight for money at home. This is just a test, yes?"

"They have a point," murmured Sasha Kaidanovsky. "No one will be forced. If the testing succeeds but the candidates do not wish to pilot, they can go home. Or wait until you feel ready." The triplets nodded.

Scott could easily guess what was going on in Herc's head as he looked from the brass to their fellow pilot candidates to the three kids. _Jesus, they really are just kids. I wouldn't have pegged them for much older than Chuck. _Okay, a few years older, but, still… kids.

Caitlin Lightcap didn't know what to make of the situation, but Herc and Scott could tell she liked the boys. "What sort of situation did they come from?" they heard her asking Min and Jing.

Jing shrugged. "It is Shanghai. Children whose parents lacked wealth or connections have few options. Their aunt and uncle raised them, but with little money and no protection but their friends. The parents are dead. Like most boys, they fight to defend themselves and make a living, and they know a hard life will only be harder when the kaiju arrive in China. They heard that blood relatives were being sought. They came to us."

The Wei brothers scored one of the highest initial handshake percentages that anybody had seen yet. They were an inscrutable trio, not as obviously sullen as Chuck and the boys back at home could be. For their first few weeks on-base, they stuck close to the Lis, Yan-Jie, and Fang. Scott sensed Herc feeling guilty for not being more welcoming to the kids, but like just about everyone (Scott included) Herc had no idea how to break the ice.

The ice broke when the first ice started showing up in Kodiak – in October. The triplets were among those who huddled in the doorway of the half-finished, barely-heated housing building and looked utterly appalled at the frozen, muddy landscape that lay between them and the laboratories. The Kaidanovskys strolled out across it without blinking, damn Russians! Kaori and Duc muttered curses, but didn't hesitate too long, nor did Pentecost and Sevier.

"Why, why, _why _did they have to build this damn place in Alaska?!" fumed one of the Gages.

"Why did they?!" demanded one of the triplets.

"No idea, son," Herc replied. "Shit, and I thought Vancouver was bad. Nothing for it, come on!"

The triplets trailed out into the cold after him like ducklings. The pons test building, while heated, was still big and drafty. While waiting their turn in the lab, the triplets ended up huddled together around a heater in a pile of discarded jackets and scarves that actually looked like a nest. Before long, they had the Chen twins, the Argentinians, and the Gages with them, and then the whole group made room for Herc. The Kaidanovskys just shook their heads and dropped their own coats onto the pile. The nest occupants kept them for extra bedding.

Scott took a picture on his phone for posterity.

Caitlin was puzzling over the Wei brothers' test results when Herc and Scott finished their latest round. "All three of them are compatible with each other," she was explaining to Stacker and Jasper Schoenfeld. "Consistently too. No matter what order you pair them in, they're well into the ninety percent range."

"But?" Stacker asked.

She chewed on her lip, then said slowly, "On a whim last night, I bridged all three of them together." She pointed at her screen, and Pentecost's eyebrows shot up.

"A hundred percent on only the fourth try?!"

"Jesus Christ," Herc muttered, and shamelessly went to look over their shoulders. "How many tries did it take the Gages?"

"Seven. I think Carlos and Jordana will get there soon – I think everyone in this 'class' will get there, but I've never seen anything like this. I didn't think it was possible." Now she shot Stacker a look that was almost mischievous, which surprised Scott. Lightcap always seemed a bit on the timid side, especially when Schoenfeld was around. "So… I had this idea."

Herc grinned. "Another one, huh? Well, your last idea already killed two kaiju, so out with it."

Even Pentecost smirked, and Caitlin explained, "The issue with their age – it _is _an issue, I agree," she added quickly, nodding to Herc and Stacker. "They'll be seventeen in December, but even if it's partly their age that's let them synch up like this… ethically, we shouldn't ignore it."

"So?" asked Schoenfeld, sounding impatient.

"So, none of the Jaegers currently in production will use them to the maximum of their abilities. We'd have to divide them up, two at a time like all the other pilots. They could still do it; they're all in operational range no matter what order you put them in. But… all three together, they'd be something else. It would mean a Jaeger design specific to them. It could take a couple of years, but a Jaeger with that kind of link would have abilities that none of our current pilots could manage. The neural load would be too much even for two. For three..."

"There is the funding," Herc mused. "So far, China's Mark-2 is the most sophisticated design, but they're still pushing the envelope." He shot Scott a wry look. "Their Command is also the least concerned about the age issue."

"Are there gonna be Mark-3's?" Scott asked.

Schoenfeld nodded. "Hong Kong has one of the biggest engineering teams in the Pacific. And the biggest budget."

The staccato punch of a basketball reached their ears. The triplets had fallen in with the regular intra-crew players, especially now that the weather outside was so nasty. Herc couldn't play worth shit (neither could Scott) but he seemed to like watching. Scott didn't need the drift to know who he was thinking about.

* * *

><p>Much to Scott's frustration, and Herc's as well, while the Hansens were performing well enough in the pons and the rough simulator that the engineers had built, there were several teams performing better. It only miffed Scott more to see that the second team to be firmly assigned a Jaeger was the pair of Navy pilots from Argentina - not even a Pacific country! - and that Jaeger was in turn assigned to Australia.<p>

"So we're still stuck with training wheels while the bloody Argentine tango dancers get to defend our turf," Scott fumed. It didn't improve his mood to see Maria Lopez and Miguel Blanco dancing all the time. She didn't have the time of day for Scott, bloody frigid bitch. Well, maybe she was already fucking her co-pilot, contrary to their claims, but unless Jordana Chen or Jing Li were into incest, they certainly weren't. Neither of those fellow pilots appreciated his friendliness either.

"Maybe dial it down a bit," Herc suggested. "Let them do the chasing."

"That what worked on Angela?" Scott grumbled.

"No, but I wasn't after her like some kind of hunting trophy." Scott wasn't in the mood for sage elder-brotherly wisdom, especially not when it came to women. When Herc started that up, he went off their shitty little base to the nearest shitty little bar and found someone more entertaining.

And Herc was such a bloody liar; he'd been hot for Angela from the first time he met her.

It was a strange, terrible relief for Scott to sense in the drift that Herc knew now that his brother was a good man. It was hell to know there'd been times that Herc had doubted it.

"I'm sorry, Scott." To his genuine surprise, Herc was the one who apologized for it. "Look… I know I can be a pompous ass about things. I'm too hard on my kid, too hard on you. Mine's not the only respectable life path; I should've admitted that a long time ago."

Tired, drained from another frustrating practice run, Scott asked, "Where's that open mind coming from? Don't tell me I'm taking over your mind already."

"You wish!" Herc threw an elbow, but not nearly fast enough for Scott not to dodge it. They both laughed. "Maybe a bit. And it's not like the rest of our comrades here have carried on lives of celibacy and poverty."

"God forbid!" Scott mock-shuddered. "The day we take vows of chastity for that Jaeger is when you're on your own! There are limits!"

Now Herc was the one looking wickedly amused. "The Order of the Mech. We all wear metallic snuggies and chant…"

Bloody hell, Scott's brother was actually developing a sense of humor! This was terrifying! "Brooo, you're scaring me now! I'll be traumatized!"

"We take vows of… of… how's it go? Poverty, charity, and abstinence – "

" – Noooooo!"

"What the hell are you two on about?" Duc and Kaori Jessop demanded, hearing Herc's taunts and Scott's yells of denial. The Gage twins were a few steps behind them, looking on curiously.

Scott pointed at his brother. "He's forming a cult of the Jaegers. We all have to take vows of abstinence."

"Dude, we're gone!" The Gages spun around in unison and headed the other way. "We didn't sign up for abstinence!"

"Right behind you, mates, right behind you! Get out while you can!"

* * *

><p>A few days after Brawler Yukon, took down its second kill in Lima, Peru, the PPDC declared the site of the South American Jaeger Launch facility to protect the Western and Southern Hemispheres. In early November, just as ground was being broken in Lima, Scott and Herc were called before a council of the brass for their decision.<p>

"Gentlemen, the seventh Mark-1 Jaeger is going to be yours. She'll be assigned to Australia and the Philippines, and the Sydney launch facility once it's complete. Her launch should take place before the end of this year."

Scott and Herc exchanged a long look. Scott couldn't keep a grin off his face; Herc only just managed it. "Does she have a name, sir?" asked Herc.

"Not yet," said Jasper Schoenfeld. "Why, got something in mind?"

Herc surprised Scott yet again. By rights, that idea should have been his, but… somehow he must have known he was picking a suggestion his wager-loving brother would approve. "Lucky Seven."

_**To be continued...**_

_**Coming Soon: **__Being the local boys has its advantages for Team Lucky Seven. Our heroes return to the Land Down Under to open the new Sydney Shatterdome, but Herc finds that he still has lines to draw in the sand to keep his family together in __**Chapter Five: The Home Team!**_

**Please don't forget to review!**

**The Jaeger Program, Class 2015-A Original Characters**

_The Mark-1's _

Miguel Blanco and Maria Lopez: _Talon "Tango" Tasmania_: Argentinian Navy pilots, they were friends before enlisting in the PPDC and got into the habit of dancing for fun - and were discovered to be drift compatible.

Min and Jing Li: _Horizon Brave_: China's first Jaeger pilots, siblings and air force officers in their early 30s, they helped shape the program that would become the Jaeger Academy and recruited many talented people into the program, including a certain set of triplets.

_The Mark-2's_

Carlos and Jordana Chen: _Puma Real_: Fraternal twins from Panama (also of Chinese descent), in their late 20s, they were commercial pilots when the Panamanian government asked them to attempt drifting after the Gage twins' success became known.

Yan-Jie Lim and Fang Lao: Silver Lion: Chinese air force pilots in their late 20s, first cousins, they were recruited by the Lis and would go on to pilot China's second Jaeger.


	5. The Home Team

_**Author's Notes:** Thank you all for the wonderful reviews and your patience over the past two weeks! Work has been absolutely brutal, but your feedback gives me life! Please keep all the comments, criticism, and questions coming!_

**Chapter Five: The Home Team**

_January 2016...  
><em>_Sydney, Australia…_

They brought Lucky Seven to Sydney after Christmas for her formal launch on New Year's Eve. Herc had missed another of Chuck's birthdays, but Scott consoled him by pointing out he was bringing back a bloody fantastic present for the kid. And the look on Chuck's face as the Jump Hawks carried Lucky over the shore above the screaming, jubilant crowd was the only thing that mattered.

Once the press were chased away after the initial launch and introductions, Herc and Scott wheedled permission to bring Chuck into the conn-pod. The Sydney Jaeger Launch Facility – now called a Shatterdome – was little more than a husk of scaffolding with one very-hastily-finished segment that could shelter a Jaeger and her crew. Since only one section of the Sydney Dome was complete, Talon Tasmania was initially assigned to Hong Kong to be the roommate of Horizon Brave. Scuttlebutt said that there was political pressure for Talon Tasmania to stand guard over the in-progress Lima Shatterdome, closer to Maria and Miguel's home country until a few more South Americans finished training.

Only the Hong Kong Shatterdome was actually complete by the time the Mark-1 Jaegers were launched, and Sydney's engineers shamelessly plagiarized the design, as did the other host countries. Japan was putting in two of them, one in Tokyo and another in Nagasaki. Another was going up near the newly-christened Jaeger Academy in Alaska, another in Los Angeles, and still another in Lima. Russia was considering one of its own, as was Panama.

Scott was smug (at first) that the Hansens landed the Sydney assignment even though the Argentinians had launched earlier. The joke ended up being on him – because the northern Shatterdomes got the first deployment after the 2015 launch blitz. And it was Talon Tasmania who took Digonek, the biggest kaiju yet, down in Ussuri Bay near Vladivostok. Herc couldn't deny a little disappointment (and had no doubt his fellow newly-minted Rangers shared it), but he was glad the kaiju hadn't gone anywhere near Australia, and proud of how well Talon and Tacit Ronin handled themselves.

He was more nostalgic over the fact that Maria Lopez and Miguel Blanco became the second pair of Rangers to get engaged after combat, continuing a "tradition" started by Caitlin and Sergio. Scott picked up on it, and gamely joined the Aussie crews in cracking open bottles of champagne to toast the demise of another kaiju and Miguel and Maria's announcement.

"Will they get married here in Sydney, you think?" Chuck wanted to know.

"Hard to say. It might be easier for them to have a wedding with their families back in Argentina." Scott grinned and prodded the kid. "Watch yourself, or we'll put your name forward as ring-bearer!" Herc grinned over the top of the kid's head at his brother, seeing Chuck's panicked expression.

When Lucky Seven was installed in Sydney, Herc treated it as a foregone conclusion - in front of the cameras: "The housing on this new base'll include families, right?" Past the eager reporters, he looked Ketteridge in the eye, daring him to challenge that. _Go on, you bastard, try and say it. Right here in front of the press. Tell me to ship my boy off to some boarding school. _

Kyrra Taior hadn't achieved drift compatibility with anyone, but she came back to Sydney with Herc and Scott to serve as one of the on-site engineers. She smoothly stepped in to lend a little weight to her Rangers' position. "Yeah, good point, there, sir. You know I'm sole caretaker for my Mum. If this Shatterdome's going to be a fully-functional base, there'll have to be family quarters."

Herc and Scott carefully avoided mentioning Chuck by name, and refused to discuss him with the media. They could fall back on his status as a minor when the paparazzi tried, but Chuck remained the ace-in-the-hole sympathy card, as Scott put it. "All we need is you storming up to the reporters announcing that when you've got to defend the whole bloody country against the kaiju, and the heartless brass want you to abandon your child. Every parent in the Pacific'll be looking to skin them alive."

It didn't come to that; Ketteridge and the brass caved.

Thus, Marian and Chuck were allowed to live on-base with their newly-transferred PPDC family. Marian took the job of on-base child minder, and that gave other personnel the option of relocating their families to the growing Dome as well. The only option for school was tutoring via satellite for most of them, supervised by a single teacher for the whole group in one schoolroom/daycare near the infirmary.

It wasn't the prettiest of settings, full of machinery, noise, grease, and smoke, in sight of the shattered remains of Sydney... but the families were together. For most of them, it was more than they'd dared to hope for. More than a few of Herc and Scott's new Jaeger crew pulled them aside to thank them for pushing the issue.

Whenever Lucky was out at work on drills and tests, Marian brought the kids outside to watch. "That's one of the few moments they're all quiet. They all just stare. Nearly every one of them's got a collection of articles and pictures - those, they fight over. God help us when the action figures come out."

Scott and Herc deemed it a point of honor that they had to have the very first editions of the Jaeger action figures, and even on the days that they were out the door before Chuck woke up and home long after he was asleep, every new one was waiting on the table before it was released to the public.

* * *

><p>Herc and Scott had some high hopes for the teacher the medics hired... at first. Olivia Morton was young, just recently licensed, but with a kindly, gentle manner towards the kids and reassurances to the parents. Her light hair and efficient, organized office reminded Herc of Angela. "Do you like her?" Scott asked Chuck. The kid just shrugged.<p>

When she scheduled meetings with each of the parents individually, Herc took it as a good sign that she'd try and give each kid individual attention. It couldn't be easy, having to coordinate satellite classes for over twenty kids ranging from toddler to high school, most of them wrestling with memories of Scissure and dead relatives. Herc initially thought to bring Scott along, as the _de facto _second parent, but Ms. Morton refused. Hmm.

She greeted him in her office with warm semi-formality, shaking his hand and getting his rank right. Most people on-base still referred to Herc by his RAAF rank rather than the PPDC title of "Ranger." He'd landed a promotion to Flight Sergeant just by completing Jaeger training. Scott was a Sergeant now.

Herc made an effort to match her attitude, but he'd never been good at this sort of thing. Mess hall camaraderie, he could do with ease; formal reports to superiors, he could manage fine. When the lines and the roles blurred, he just felt lost and guarded - and put more effort to trying not to let it show than actually focusing on whatever he was supposed to be talking about.

He mumbled noncommittal agreement and appreciation for Morton's compliments to Chuck. Yes, he was a smart young man, yes, growing quite handsome, yes, he resembled his mother.

Then Morton noticed Herc frowning at the collection of brochures on her desk, and finally got to the point. "I thought we should talk about the options for Chuck's education."

They were all pamphlets for schools: boarding schools, some scattered around the country, others bloody overseas. Herc took a few deep breaths and forced himself to not snap. Maybe she didn't realize he'd already had this conversation with Marshall Ketteridge. Hell, maybe Ketteridge had put her up to it without forewarning her. If so, she didn't need to be hit with the backwash. So with a polite, cautious half-smile, Herc told her, "These look to all be live-away schools."

She nodded, with what seemed like sympathy. "I know, it's a hard thing to face, but we have to be realistic about what's best for him."

Herc folded his arms. "Fact is, ma'am, that's not what I've got in mind at all." She paused, startled, and he clarified, "I'm not interested in sending my kid away. I'm his father, and I mean to keep him with me."

She faltered, confirming his suspicion that whosever idea this tack had been, nobody'd put her in the know on Herc's position. That cooled some of his ire, but on the other hand, the condescension he now sensed behind her smile did neither of them any favors. "Sir, I know this is hard for you. But do you really think you can provide what Charles needs in a parent with this lifestyle?" Herc gritted his teeth and let her say her piece. He had no doubt he was not going to like it. "Your duties as a pilot of these _Jaegers_ has you occupied more than twelve hours every day, and the same for Charles's uncle. Charles is going to need the _presence _of good, stable influences to recover from his mother's death and the trauma he's gone through. Dr. Kim has observed numerous behavioral problems such as aggression and isolation from his peers. These need to be consistently addressed through therapy in a safe, structured environment."

"I thought part of the plan here was for all the base kids to get therapy."

"Via satellite and therapist visits to the base. This might be enough for a younger child, or one with a more stable home life, but my opinion is that Charles will need more." Now the teacher looked puzzled as she considered Herc. "I... would have thought you'd welcome the opportunity. Being responsible for a preteen here on the base is a heavy burden." Herc stared, and felt heat gather in his chest as he worked out what she was implying. It must have shown on his face, because she started to backtrack. "I only meant, it's - ah - it's a great deal to think about on top of your work - "

"My kid's not a _burden._" He managed to keep his voice level, but it was so low that came out like a growl. He had to get control of this conversation before he got any angrier. "And maybe you hadn't heard, but I already had this conversation with Marshall Ketteridge. My son stays with me."

Morton looked torn between being afraid of him and being affronted by him. "This is not an ideal environment."

"I never said it was. Nothing about the bloody kaiju is ideal." Herc scanned the materials on her desk and managed not to feel smug. "You don't have any other ideas except shipping him off to be someone else's problem?"

"I never said that - "

" - Good. You've got the degrees and the license. I'll be glad of any advice I can get, but just so we're clear: your advice should be how _I _raise him, because I _will _be the one raising him." _You're not taking him, Ketteridge's not taking him. He's all I've got left. I'm not giving him up. Maybe some ivy-walled school and a lot of teachers and shrinks could do better by him... but he's _mine_, not theirs. I'm not just handing him off. _

"We'll - we'll... have to work out a treatment plan, then."

"Have at it." Obviously, she'd not even begun one. He forced down his smoldering temper and tried to come up with something constructive to say - without giving a hint of how much he didn't know about Chuck's state of mind these days. He wasn't in the bloody mood to consider that she might be right about his ability to be a proper father, gone all day, almost every day. He'd make it work. He wouldn't consider anything else. They'd have to damn well get a court order before he'd give his kid up to someone else's custody again. "He likes animals. He's got a lot of sense... doesn't mess around with the machinery or go climbing under caution tape like some kids do. Not yet, anyway," he smiled wryly. "He'll go looking for books and articles on the Internet to find out how stuff works, though."

Ms. Morton sighed, relenting. "Do you at least monitor what he reads and watches?"

He managed not to roll his eyes. "I keep him off the porn channels and the hate groups, if that's what you mean. Base IT does a fair job of that. For the most part, I let him read whatever he likes. What's the harm?"

"The harm is in a twelve-year-old being exposed to content that's properly for adults, that may frighten him or confuse him," she huffed. "He needs someone who will take an active role in setting boundaries and giving guidance, not letting him play Grand Theft Auto whenever he's not in class."

"Little chance of that since he doesn't care for gaming," Herc shot back. There: he did know a thing or two about his own kid's tastes in entertainment. "I can talk to him more about... what bothers him, sure." That wasn't too much to expect. "He's got his uncle as well. Scott's good at connecting with the kids. He spent more time with them before we got assigned to the Jaeger Program, and he's still committed to his nephew."

She practically turned up her nose, much in the way other officers' wives had once done when they talked about Scott. "Is he such a healthy influence on a preteen boy?"

_Fuck you. You don't have a bloody clue what you're talking about. _"He loves Chuck, and Chuck loves him. He's told me to my face when he thought I made bad calls about the kid, and he's been there for him. We weren't here twenty-four hours before he was wandering around the grounds looking for safe spots the kids can run about outside. He and I aren't always on shared duty; we can trade off making sure Chuck gets proper attention."

If he doubted himself on that score... well, to hell with that. What this snippy girl and her neat, shiny office and her pretty boarding school brochures was proposing wouldn't serve as the solution either. _Down, Herc. She's trying to speak up for the kid. Yeah, she doesn't know shit about him, but she's trying, and probably thrown in over her head same as the rest of us. Give her a break. _"We've got our work cut out for us, I know," he said, trying to be conciliatory. "But it's my job and I'm not handing it off."

He couldn't tell if that restored his standing in the teacher's regard or not - and wondered if he'd had any standing to begin with. She went back into formal mode, a bit cooler than the way she'd started the meeting, saying she'd have an "educational and parenting plan" ready for his review in a few days. He was tremendously relieved to get out of her office.

* * *

><p>The Shatterdome quarters were a bit more generous than what they'd been squeezed into at Richmond Air Base, but not much. Two bedrooms, with him and Scott in bunk beds in the larger. It was a tight fit with three chairs around the round table in the kitchenliving room, but if they wanted, they could probably manage to eat a meal together. Scott had already started putting up shelves above Chuck's little desk in his room so he could start displaying his model planes - and the first Jaeger action figures - properly again.

He found a very anxious Scott waiting up. "Well?"

He stretched, casting his jacket onto the table with a groan. "Not as productive as I'd have liked, but at least I told her where I stand." He eyed his brother. "Why?" Had Morton and/or Ketteridge been stirring the pot outside their offices, maybe looking to enlist Scott in this little campaign? If so, there'd be hell to pay.

Scott he muttered in Herc's ear, "Chuck's convinced you'll send him away." Herc's legs nearly went out from under him. He looked instinctively towards the second bedroom door. It was closed, and the kid was immured in there evidently waiting for the axe to drop. "I don't know who told him that - if anyone - but he's got that in his head."

For a minute, Herc's head just spun. Morton couldn't have already - Ketteridge wouldn't have dared - no way would Marian - but hell, all Chuck had to do was read, and he'd see enough examples of kids being shunted off to boarding school by parents who couldn't be bothered.

He mutely shook his head at his brother. Scott let his breath out. "No, I didn't bloody think so, and if you were leaning that way, I'd have kicked your ass. You've got to tell him that, Herc. Now. He's scared."

Yeah. Herc was his father. He was supposed to be there for him, especially when he was refusing to send him to a school that might give him more attention. No excuse not to do his part as a father. _Pull it together, man. And no sloughing this off on Scott either. _He made himself get up, breathing until his knees stopped shaking and he could at least keep up the appearance of being strong for his boy. Then he went to Chuck's room and opened the door without knocking.

There was a pitiful little ball on the twin bed, squeezed so tight he seemed to defy the laws of matter. The light was off, but Herc flicked it on without preamble. No chance Chuck was asleep; Herc had seen him move. He was... shit, he was trembling, vibrating under the blankets.

"You're not going anywhere," he muttered. He heard his son's breath catch. "I dunno where you got that idea, but... you're staying right here. I'm not sending you away."

There was a burst of movement as Chuck flipped himself over to face him, still curled up with a death grip on his covers, but now he was staring at his dad with wide, frantic eyes in the dim indoor lights. Did that mean... Chuck actually _wanted _to stay in this dreary windowless apartment on this noisy, crowded base just to be with his dad and his uncle?

_"It's not up to you,_" he'd told his boy when he and Scott left for Anchorage and left Chuck with Marian.

But did it follow that what Chuck wanted didn't matter at all? _The needs of the child_, Olivia Morton had kept talking about. Had she considered that Chuck might not want to go off to some boarding school and start over among strangers again?

If Herc was going to do right by his kid, he needed to be present whenever he could, and at least try to show Chuck that he mattered. He crossed the room and sat down on the edge of Chuck's bed, putting an awkward hand on his shoulder. Chuck stared at him, then slowly started to uncurl... as if Herc's touch was comforting. _Yeah, there's a nice fantasy. _He shook himself out of that mindset. _Step up, Hercules. His mum's not here. It's on you. _

"That you might... that a school somewhere else was a possibility, Miss Morton and I talked about that. But we're not gonna do that." He made himself meet his son's eyes. "You'd rather be here?" Chuck nodded without even hesitating. "Okay. She and Dr. Kim are working out plans for you and the other kids, how you'll take classes, how we'll get you some time outside. It's not gonna be easy sometimes. Your uncle and me've got a big job."

"You're Jaeger Rangers. It's important. I'll be good."

He smiled to himself. _Dunno if that's in your DNA, my lad. _"We're in it together. We'll make it work out."

His son smiled at him.

**_To be continued..._**

**_Coming Soon: _**_Herc and Scott have their work cut out for them to manage a lonely, frustrated preteen in such a stressful environment. But Scott has a few ideas, and one of them leads to a meeting that will change Chuck's life forever in __**Chapter Six: Love at First Fight!**_

**PLEASE don't forget to review!**

**Original Character Guide**

Air Vice Marshall Blake Ketteridge: Commanding Officer of Sydney Shatterdome. Australia's senior liaison to the PPDC.

Marian Taior: An elderly Aboriginal woman who lost four of her five children and all of her grandchildren in Sydney. She served as Chuck's guardian while Herc and Scott are training in Anchorage, and now assists with Sydney Shatterdome's childcare.

Kyrra Taior: Aeronautical engineer, Marian's youngest and sole surviving daughter, around age 40. She attended the Jaeger Academy but failed to be drift compatible, but returned to the Sydney Shatterdome as an engineer.

Olivia Morton: A newly-licensed teacher hired to manage the children of Sydney Shatterdome's family housing. Late 20s, with several degrees but little practical experience.

Miguel Blanco and Maria Lopez: _Talon "Tango" Tasmania_: Argentinian Navy pilots, they were friends before enlisting in the PPDC and got into the habit of dancing for fun - and were discovered to be drift compatible. Fell in love during training and got engaged after their first kill, fittingly, on Valentine's Day 2016.


	6. Love At First Fight

_**Author's Notes:**__ Thank you all once again for all the reviews! Please keep them coming! Sorry that the length of the chapters is a little erratic - I tend to choose pace and picking the right stopping spot for a chapter break. Also, it will probably be two weeks until the next update due to the next spate of work deadlines. Thank you also for your patience, and please don't let up with the questions and comments and concrit here, on the comment boards of AO3, or my Tumblr! I welcome all discussion!_

**Chapter Six: Love At First Fight**

_Sydney Shatterdome…  
><em>_May 2016…_

It wasn't as if Herc's newfound status and fame mended things with Chuck. Far from it. The boy still wasn't much for making friends his own age. According to the teacher and Marian Taior, Chuck spent a large chunk of his time in school sulking – or getting into brawls.

One of his worst fights was with Danny Oliver, the kid with whom Herc had actually tried get him housed before the trip to Kodiak. The pair got into it while Herc and Scott were deployed in May 2016 for Onibaba.

"I'm not blaming it all on Chuck," Danny's mother told Herc wearily as the base docs patched the boys up. "I know what my lad's like when he's in one of his moods."

But while Chuck was younger and a little smaller, he'd absorbed a bit more of Scott's boxing lessons than anticipated. He'd broken the Oliver kid's nose and fractured a cheekbone. Chuck had some nasty bruises of his own, but the older boy was going to be a mess for months.

"What was it about?" Herc asked gruffly.

Abby Oliver looked away, embarrassed. "I'm... not rightly sure. Something to do with Lucky's deployment, that, you know, you didn't..."

"We didn't actually get to fight Onibaba," Herc finished, and managed not to groan.

Barely six months after the Mark-1 launches, the first two Breach events had resulted in kaiju wandering off to the north. First Vladivostok, then Tokyo. Lucky had been deployed for both, but didn't engage the target either time. Hell, they'd never even gotten near it. Scott was cross about it, and Herc couldn't deny a bit of disappointment, but... well, that was how it went sometimes. And the bogeys hadn't gone anywhere near Australia; that was a relief.

But Herc and Scott hadn't been passive youths themselves, and he knew what teenaged boys could make of this situation. With Chuck's temper and growing strength, Danny Oliver had been baiting the bull.

Scott thought it was funny. "Now aren't you glad the kid can throw a good punch?"

"Now we've got some other brat's medical bills to pay," Herc snapped.

"Says who? It's the Oliver brat's fault for starting something he couldn't finish! Let his parents deal with the bills. We're Rangers; what're they gonna do?"

"That's not the attitude I'm bringing my kid up with, and if you start pushing it, we're going to have a big fucking problem, Scott," snarled Herc. "You do not muck around with my boy if I decide to punish him, if I give him work, or anything else."

They stared each other down, but in this, not for the first time, Scott yielded. "Fine," he mumbled. "Your son, your call. I get it. I keep my mouth shut." He walked away.

_I didn't mean it like that. _Herc almost called after him. _Damn it! _

He didn't want Scott out of Chuck's life. Not when his brother was the one who could make Chuck laugh wholeheartedly, inventing ridiculous, hilarious games with the Jaeger action figures and model planes, tearing around the few trampled patches of grass with the boy on his back operating his arms. There was no missing the way Scott felt about the kid. The way Scott happily sorted through the piles of outrageous gifts the Hansens received from media and admirers, picking out the things he thought Chuck would like first, setting them aside.

So on their next drift, in Sydney's new simulator, Herc relented. _I know what he means to you. I don't want you to lose that, or him to lose you. I just have to make the hard calls, Scotty. _

Satisfied with the outcome of their fight against virtual Onibaba in Tokyo, Scott was at ease again, his frustration pounded out. _Yeah, I know. It's easy to want to be "fun uncle," but you've got to handle the discipline stuff. Just as well; I'd be shit at it. _

They laughed, the drift fizzing with the mental equivalent. The motion rigs kept them a yard apart, same as a conn-pod, but within the drift space, Herc ruffled his brother's hair. _Yeah, I can't see you playing the bad cop, you softie. He's got you wrapped around his little finger. _

_Which is why I'm going to keep at you until you get the kid a puppy._

_ARRRGH!_

_Every kid should have a puppy!_

_You didn't have a puppy, I didn't have a puppy! _

_Exactly, and look how fucked up we are! Puppy deprivation! Herrrrc, get your boyo a puppy!_

_And what do I do when it grows up into a bloody dog?! _But Herc was laughing so hard that his rig was shaking, and the pons techs were grinning through the window at him. They had no idea what Herc and Scott were talking about, but they knew some sort of drift-shenanigans were in progress.

That summer, coming up on Chuck's thirteenth birthday, enough law and order had been restored to the remaining neighborhoods of Sydney that the base kids could get out more. Some animal rescue group started rounding up all the strays abandoned in the chaos, treating the ones they could and looking to start re-homing them. Of course, they put out feelers to the family housing section of the Sydney Shatterdome.

"Shouldn't the Jaegers have a mascot?" one of them cooed, bringing a Aussie sheepdog, a moggie kitten, and a baby lop-eared rabbit as her ambassadors.

_Ah, hell. _Most of the kids promptly hurled themselves at their parents, begging and pleading. Chuck didn't... but he did stare. And Scott shot Herc a _look _that was unmistakable.

_Who's gonna take care of it? We can barely keep Chuck looked after without help, _Herc protested in their next drift.

_He's nearly thirteen. He can manage. Get him a book; he can recite Lucky's core elements from memory! He's bright enough to handle a dog! _Scott projected an image of a teacup Chihuahua that a couple of the girls - and Kyrra - had been squealing over. _I almost got him that one. _

_Then you'll definitely be the one walking it. I'll get it a cute little sparkly pink leash with feathers and a matching purse for you. _

But Herc pulled one of the rescue workers aside when they were parading their four-legged charges past the press lines outside the Dome the next day and muttered, "What's a book for a kid about keeping a dog? Y'know, the responsibilities?"

The woman's face lit up, and Herc managed not to growl at her. The last thing he needed was the paparazzi weighing in on his child-rearing. She did contain herself and murmured (albeit with a saccharine grin), "We have some pamphlets, and they have a whole list of books."

* * *

><p><em>Summer 2016…<em>

It was as well that Herc and Scott were distracted with pet research that summer; Lucky was yanked off the active duty roster for almost three months along with the rest of the Mark-1 Jaegers. "Where the fuck did that come from? We haven't even had a full deployment!" Scott ranted.

"Radiation shielding needs to be improved," Kyrra told them. "Apparently, it's urgent. Pentecost and Sevier've been grounded, _permanently_."

Herc stiffened, no longer as disgruntled as his brother. "Is that what took Sevier out in Tokyo?"

She nodded. "The medics have been worrying about that with this entire line, and with the Mark-2's as well. Fourteen bloody months to build those reactors and get the things pilot ready, and they were experiments to begin with. Metharocin's not going to be enough if the radiation shielding's not improved."

Now Herc's blood was running cold. "Fuck... I've had my son up in there." Scott too forgot his own frustration in a hurry.

After several dead ends through the regular official channels, they put in a call directly to Stacker Pentecost. "_Herc. I was just thinking of contacting you_."

Herc wished he could be a little more sensitive about it, but not if there was a danger to his boy. "Look... sorry to hear about Coyote, but nobody higher up seems to have a straight story. What's this about radiation dangers? You know my son's here with me on base."

Stacker wasn't offended by Herc's demand for information, and began tapping away on his keyboard at once. "_I don't think there's any risk to people who aren't on or in the Jaegers on a regular basis. How often is he with you in Lucky?_"

Making himself breathe, Herc started counting on his fingers. "He's been in the conn-pod four times. In the bay unshielded more, but hell, the bloody day care is only a five-minute walk down the halls!"

"_What kind of checks are they running for your Dome? If you've got concrete walls, the school room's probably okay, but they should still be running the Geiger counters around in the Jaeger bay_."

"I don't bloody know," he admitted.

"I'll find out," said Scott, and he marched out of their quarters.

Herc rubbed his eyes. "Sorry to jump on you, Stacker. I know you've got your own problems."

"_No apology necessary. It's an issue every one of us could stand to keep an eye on_." Pentecost sighed, looking about twenty years older than he had in Alaska. "_Tamsin's already left for Hawaii. She's been diagnosed, Herc_. _Aggressive treatment will probably start in a couple of months. And it's probably only a matter of time for me. I'll be getting half my lymph nodes biopsied in the next year_."

"Damn. I'm sorry. You were magnificent in Tokyo. So was she, and then when the - complication hit... I wouldn't have thought that was possible, what you did. I hope they're treating you well now."

"_Well enough in the medical benefits arena. Tamsin's going to work with K-Watch; at least she'll have something to think about. I've been promoted to Marshall_." Pentecost gave a wry half-smile. "_I'm C.O. of the Academy for this class, possible command of a Shatterdome when the next ones are open_."

"Well, I'm sorry we're losing you as Rangers, but I can't argue with those promotions. Congratulations. I hear Academy's got a few thousand applicants now."

"_Applicants, yes, but a fraction of those will pass screening. Forty-eight made the first cut this past spring, and three teams are left. One of them will inherit Coyote when she's finished with her refit_."

"Tough act to follow." Herc said, giving an imaginary tip of the hat. Pentecost frowned, distracted, and Herc recalled he'd mentioned wanting to talk with him. "There was something else on your end?"

Now... did the man look nervous?! "_There was_," Pentecost said slowly. "_About your son - only in general -_ " he added as Herc stiffened. "_Or rather, I should say, about... parenting_."

Herc just barely managed to keep his eyeballs in his skull. "Oy?!"

* * *

><p>Scott nearly fell out of his rig in shock when he discovered how that conversation had gone in the drift. <em>Stacker bloody Pentecost is a father?! When did that happen?!<em>

_Keep it in the drift, Scotty, for the same reasons as we'd demand for Boyo. He's adopting the girl, the little one in the blue coat from Tokyo. _Herc was awash in incredulity too, but also admiration for the man.

Scott couldn't blame him; he'd never have pegged that buttoned-up Briton as the paternal type, but the drift did weird things. _Or maybe piloting solo buggered up his brain. _ After nearly three hours alone dueling a kaiju to the death, maybe old Stacker had imprinted on the girl.

_Oy, show a little respect, _his brother scolded. _ That was a damn good fight, and damn near killed him and Tamsin. If he wants to raise an orphan in his honorable retirement, he's got a right to try._

_No arguments here. _Scott wondered at the man's thinking, not so much the sentimentality of taking on a kid from his battle, but willingly separating from his partner. He and Herc hadn't even gone into combat yet, and he wasn't sure he could handle that.

Herc didn't say it, not even articulated in the drift, but emotions and attitudes were like clouds and shadows, washing around them in the head space, and Scott knew he agreed.

Marian was on to them as she caught Chuck feverishly studying the books on pet ownership that Herc had got for him. To their shared relief, she was all for it. "He's a dedicated lad when he thinks it's worth his while. His maths and hard science scores are through the roof now that he's imagining being a pilot. He'll be a good dog owner."

The pet rescuers were no fools. They could hear the whispers on the wind in the Shatterdome rumor mill, and brought their fundraising paraphernalia - and adoption candidates - around the public entrances on a regular basis. The growing population of Dome staff had started a betting pool on what sort of dog Chuck would end up with. They were shameless about it in the mess hall every day.

"Ten on a toy poodle."

Much snickering and sidelong grins over breakfast trays followed. "Herc would never let him."

Herc growled at the J-Techs. "If the kid wants a bloody poodle and is willing to look after its curly little arse, I will let him have a bloody poodle."

Unconcerned with their Ranger's rising hackles, Kyrra declared, "That's it for me, then. Twenty on a puggle!"

"What the hell's a puggle?" Scott was mostly enjoying the taunting of Herc, but now he wondered what sort of mutant canines they were dreaming up.

"Cross between a poodle and a pug."

That actually sounded rather cute. "I like pugs," Scott conceded. "They have curly tails, and they don't shed fluff all over the place."

Damn, he'd given Herc an opening. His big brother shot him a wicked smirk. "Well, take that up with the boyo, then, Scotty. If he wants a fluffy little Fifi with bows on its head who leaves fur all over your pants, I will get him a fluffy little Fifi - just invest in lint rollers."

Hell. His brother won that round.

The crew were beside themselves, slapping their thighs and pointing at him. "And he'll rope you into walking it, Scotty-boy! HAHAHAHAH! Doggie hair's the newest fashion statement! How manly you'll look! We'll make Fifi into Lucky Seven's mascot!"

"LUCKY ALREADY HAS A MASCOT!" Scott bellowed.

"What's the matter? Can dish it out but not take it?" Herc shoved him. "Get a grip and lighten up."

"Shite, Herc's telling Scott to lighten up. When did we end up in the Twilight Zone?"

"I will train that dog to jump up and grab your balls, Hercules," Scott vowed. "Even if it is a fluffy little Fifi."

* * *

><p>The Olivers almost ended up with the fluffy little Fifi when the daughter went to pieces over a long-haired white poofball (reportedly a Maltese-Pomeranian mix), but managed to compromise on a sleek, tiger-striped moggie. "At least he'll use a litter box and doesn't need to be walked," Danny's mother sighed. "Emma likes him, and Danny'll tolerate him for her sake. And his fur's short."<p>

PPDC medical benefits had paid for Danny Oliver's assorted treatments after his knock-down, drag-out with Chuck, although Herc had been prepared to foot any leftover bills, much to Scott's irritation. Scott still thought Herc should've circled the wagons, especially given that Chuck hadn't provoked that brawl. At least Danny'd learned his lesson and was giving Chuck a wide berth nowadays - though he was shooting poisonous glares at the younger boy whenever Scott saw him. To Scott and Herc's private glee, Chuck was now two math classes ahead of Danny Oliver despite having started a class behind.

"Little Danny-boy brags that he's going to the Jaeger Academy as soon as he's old enough," Kyrra snickered. "At this rate, Chuck'll qualify before Danny's done with high school."

Despite Chuck's frequent clashes with his classmates, Herc and Scott had enough allies among the personnel to help run interference and keep the press away when his birthday got close. However, they were stalked by J-techs and construction crewmen going down to the shop front where the rescue group (funded by the business they got from the PPDC) had now set up a semi-permanent residence just off-base.

Oh, shit, there were half a dozen fluffy little Fifis in the place - who'd bribed the bastards? Scott was going to strangle someone, and from the sudden green tinge to Herc's face, he was thinking the same despite his vow of neutrality.

Chuck was very quiet, but keen-eyed as he examined the pups and adult dogs available for adoption. "We have all these too at our bigger kennel," added the workers on duty, bringing up an array of photos on their desktop. "Give the word, we'll have one brought in."

"Ohhh, look at the Chihuahua!" Kyrra cooed. Herc shot her a look that would send a kaiju screaming for cover.

Well, all right, the little black and tan ratling scampering around the play pen was rather cute, but Scott wouldn't admit it. And dear God, the yapping! _What the hell was I thinking, encouraging this? _

And yet... Chuck was grinning now, watching the little mite's antics. He didn't smile openly much, not even when Scott played Jaeger for him. _Damn. Maybe not fluffy, but we're gonna end up with a Fifi, and we won't be able to say no. _ Well, he'd hold out for not calling the thing a stupid name. Maybe a Mexican name for a Chihuahua, stick a little sombrero on him and play it off...

Chuck turned his attention to a proper little Aussie cattle dog mix, who came bounding up to challenge the Chihuahua - and pissed on the floor when the ratdog lunged at him. "Oh, hell, he always does that," sighed one of the workers, going for a spray bottle. "Hang on a minute."

The visitors were shunted to the side for clean-up, and Scott was eyeing his brother over Chuck's head, both of them mentally debating the pros and cons of a piss-happy cattle dog versus a fluffy little Fifi... when Chuck knelt to examine a quiet little ball of wrinkles along the wall of the play area.

Hmm. "Pug?" Scott murmured to one of the rescuers.

She shook her head. "English bulldog."

"Oh, _English, _there's trouble." Scott tsk'd in mock dismay. "Dunno if we could have one of those in the house."

But the little brown and white bundle of wrinkles looked up at Chuck with black eyes that seemed no less intense and curious than the boy's. One of the rescuers grinned. "Watch this." He handed Chuck a squishy plush bone, which Chuck presented to the pup. "He's got an inner wrestler."

Pup certainly didn't act prissy and English. He seized the end of the bone and began wrangling at it, little high-pitched growls coming from his pint-sized chest - and drool flying everywhere. "Uh-oh, he leaks," warned Kyrra.

But Herc's lips were starting to twitch. "What's this one's name?"

_"Stacker!_" Scott coughed, earning himself an elbow to the ribs.

"Max," the female rescuer said. "You could change it if you wanted, of course."

"Is he aggressive?" asked the teacher from the Dome who'd trailed along after them. She sounded disapproving, as usual, but then again, she always sounded that way to Scott's ears.

But Miss Morton wasn't the one who'd be deciding what dog Chuck took home, and the pet rescue volunteers knew it. "Nah, just towards toys. He knows where to direct it. See?" Chuck was actually giggling, and as he scratched the wrinkled head, little Max dropped his prey and hurled himself to the floor, all four feet in the air. "Loves a good rub, that one."

Herc was grinning, and damn if it wasn't obvious he was Chuck's dad at this moment. Personnel tended to mutter they could see the resemblance when Chuck (or Herc) were scowling, but it came out in rarer moments too. He winked at Scott, but shocked all of them by putting a finger to his lips when the rescuers would have prompted Chuck to comment.

The kid looked up at his dad, who quickly made his face blank. "I can pick any one I want?"

"Choice is all yours, Boyo," Herc confirmed. If he ever noticed in the drift that Scott's throat got a little tight, Scott would deny it to his dying day. "Take your time." Though he eyed the Great Dane taking up half the space in the pen and shot the adults a pained look, forcing them all to stifle laughter.

No chance. Herc probably knew before Scott did, and it certainly didn't take Scott long to work it out: Chuck had eyes only for Max the Bulldog. "There is drool in your future," Marian Taior muttered to them, grinning. Herc just shrugged.

In twenty minutes, Chuck had Max in his lap; in thirty, one of the rescue workers was teaching him some of the tricks for bulldog grooming. Another was murmuring tips in Herc's ear. "He's a mix, so he won't have some of the health problems the purebreds do. He'll live a bit longer too."

That startled Scott. "How long?"

"Ten years, if he's well taken care of." Damn, they hadn't figured on a life span that short. It seemed like the neighborhood dogs and cats had lived forever growing up.

Well, this wasn't the time to dwell on it, as Chuck came towards them with the little bundle of wrinkles cradled in his arms. "I want Max."

"'kay. Let's sign the papers and take him home."

Scott saw the look on his nephew's face at that moment in Herc's headspace for years.

**_To be continued..._**

**_Coming Soon: _**_ We fast-forward through the remainder of 2016 to the momentous summer that saw the launch of the Mark-3 Jaegers, and the introduction of Lucky Seven's new Shatterdome-mate, Vulcan Specter. But Scott Hansen's way with the ladies (or lack thereof) spells trouble for teamwork in __**Chapter Seven: Who Let The Dogs Out**__!_

**PLEASE don't forget to review!**

**Original Character Guide**

Marian Taior: An elderly Aboriginal woman who lost four of her five children and all of her grandchildren in Sydney. She served as Chuck's guardian while Herc and Scott are training in Anchorage, and now assists with Sydney Shatterdome's childcare.

Kyrra Taior: Aeronautical engineer, Marian's youngest and sole surviving daughter, around age 40. She attended the Jaeger Academy but failed to be drift compatible, but returned to the Sydney Shatterdome as an engineer.

Olivia Morton: A newly-licensed teacher hired to manage the children of Sydney Shatterdome's family housing. Late 20s, with several degrees but little practical experience, she views the world in black and white when the kaiju have already turned many things gray.

Daniel (Danny) Oliver: A classmate of Chuck's, about 18 months older, son of one of Herc's fellow helicopter pilots, Greg. His little sister, Emma, is six years younger, and his elder sister, Karina, was a first responder in Sydney who died of radiation poisoning at age nineteen. He and Chuck have a lot in common, but sadly, lack the maturity to empathize at this stage in their lives. Both boys dream of joining the Jaeger Program as pilots.

Abigail Lemanu Oliver: Danny's mother, daughter of French Polynesian immigrants, who was one of the parents Herc solicited to possibly take care of Chuck while Herc and Scott attended the Jaeger Academy. Abby reluctantly refused, being already tasked with taking care of her traumatized, grieving children and her aging mother, but she remains sympathetic to the Hansens (even when her son and Chuck get into fights in school).

Greg Oliver: Herc's comrade and fellow chopper pilot from before K-Day, now a support pilot for Lucky Seven. Like Herc, he moved his displaced family to Richmond Air Base, then to the Sydney Shatterdome and joined the Jaeger Program in the wake of Scissure. He lost his parents in the attack, and his oldest daughter, Karina, was an Australian Air Force cadet who joined the initial rescue effort only to be fatally injured by radiation in the wake of the nuclear bomb.


	7. Who Let The Dogs Out?

_**Author's Notes: **__ Many thanks to everyone for all the reviews and feedback! Please keep it coming! This chapter marks the full-on merge with Aurora Borealis, but that fic isn't required reading. The only headcanon you need for this chapter is that Herc first saw Raleigh years before Manila - dancing with his friends at a semi-illicit party in Romeo Blue's Jaeger bay on his eighteenth birthday in December 2016. Among that partying crowd were the Gages, the Tunaris, Tendo, and Raleigh and Yancy's classmates, the future pilots of Vulcan Specter. (It's Chapter 10 in Aurora Borealis if you just want to read that, and as Herc had a cameo POV in that fic, the Becket boys have the occasional cameo in this one.)_

_**Nerd Culture Note:**__ Scott's comparison at the end of the chapter is to a famous scene from the Game of Thrones series, where spoiled prince Joffrey gets slapped around during a much-needed lesson in manners by his uncle Tyrion._

**Chapter Seven: Who Let The Dogs Out?**

_Sydney Shatterdome…  
>June 2017…<em>

When Herc got frustrated with his brother, he only needed to think of how Scott was with Chuck to remind himself Scott was a good man. The way Scott had watched Chuck picking out Max was as comforting a rabbit to chase as watching Chuck and Max themselves.

As the rest of the Mark-2's launched and 2016 wound to a close without Lucky Seven getting to fight, Herc couldn't deny being restless and frustrated.

Scott... well, Scott restless _or _frustrated was not a good thing.

Scott's off-base sources of entertainment got rowdier and attracted more paparazzi. It was all Herc could do to get him to not come staggering drunk and cursing into quarters and waking Chuck up. "You want your adult activities, fine, but you keep it away from my boy."

Scott cursed at him and called him a fucking prig - but he did find other places to sleep it off and never brought any of his one-night-stands near quarters. And he did usually mumble an apology for showing up hung over and/or bruised at training. "I'm so fucking bored, Herc."

"Yeah, I know. But if the old crowd's not doing it for you, maybe find a new one." Herc had run with the hard-drinking, hard-gambling set on and off, but he'd managed to grow out of it. He had to fight to keep himself off that mindset now that he was drifting with his brother, since it only antagonized Scott to sense him wondering, _When the bloody hell are you going to GROW... UP?!_

Talon Tasmania never came back from her stint as senior Jaeger in South America. She became the first Jaeger to be destroyed in combat in February 2017, and her pilots, Maria and Miguel, only two months after marrying, became the first Rangers killed in the line of duty.

As a result, even the grand opening of Sydney's completed Shatterdome in May 2017 wasn't as good an event as it might have been. The mood of the Jaeger Program had sobered, and Lucky Seven was Australia's sole protector until the Mark-3 team arrived.

Herc was hoping that having another team of Rangers around would shift things, get Scott's attention off his gambling and his girls. Scott loved the challenge of working with Lucky; with these planned team exercises, Herc thought it would direct some of his younger brother's energy to something a little healthier.

If only Vulcan Specter's up-and-coming Rangers, Devi and Susanti Hassan, hadn't been pretty young women.

Scott liked to whine that "nice girls" wouldn't give him the time of day, but since he didn't treat anything female much better than the skirts he perved on at strip joints. What did he bloody expect?

Worse, Marshall Ketteridge was a bit old school when it came to gender roles in the military - and nationality and religion. Herc hadn't ever had really wondered at the man's prejudices before… he'd been so enthusiastic about Herc and Scott's role as pilots that Herc had assumed he'd just be thrilled to get another Australian-born team. But Herc quickly worked out that the daughters of Indonesian immigrants whose family photos included women in headscarves weren't what Ketteridge had had in mind. It was obvious he didn't think much of the Hassan sisters' credentials.

Still, Indonesia had contributed a chunk of change to Vulcan's construction, and the Jaeger had been built in Brisbane, where the Hassan family was from. So whatever xenophobic and/or chauvinist objections Ketteridge had to the Hassan sisters, they'd been overruled.

Herc liked them. He'd already been inclined to like them from the first impression of them at Christmas 2016, seeing them dancing with the Gages and Tunaris. _There, you see, Scott? It's possible to have a good time without getting shit-faced or picking fights. _He couldn't quite hide that in his heart of hearts, he half-wished Scott _would _end up pairing off with a fellow Ranger; maybe that would help straighten him out. God knew, Herc's attitude had changed thanks to Angela.

But it seemed that Scott never learned. He slimed the younger sister with no more finesse or subtlety than he'd shown with Maria Lopez or Jordana Chen back at the Jaeger Academy (or Tamsin Sevier, or Jing Li, or Caitlin Lightcap, or any or all of the females that passed into his peripheral vision).

Susanti Hassan was no more impressed than they had been. "Personal space, mate, you heard of it?!" she growled as Scott crowded her, practically drooling down her shirt.

"Don't be rude to your superior officer now, love!"

Herc dove in before it could escalate, seeing Susanti's lip starting to curl and something feral starting to flash in her elder sister's eyes. He put a very hard grip on his brother's shoulder and growled, "Nothing intended, _right,_ Scott?" _Back the fuck away from the female officers. _He manhandled his brother out of the room with a quick wave of apology. "What the hell are you trying to do?!"

"I'm being friendly!"

"Yeah, you're friendly and the kaiju are fluffy little Fifis. They're Rangers, goddammit! Show some fucking respect!"

Scott just snorted and walked away.

Herc sought the sisters out, and found them with their newbie crew scoping out Vulcan's bay, wagons thoroughly circled. "Listen... I'm sorry about that."

He wondered if it was the drift or their native synch that led the pair to act so much like twins. They both eyed with with arms folded, defensive and wary. "Interesting sibling you got there, Ranger Hansen," said the older girl.

_Great. Just great. _

* * *

><p>The Sydney Rangers started up team training, first in the Kwoon and then in the simulator. The initial results were… not encouraging. The Hassans and their crew were constantly looking for trouble from nearer-by than from the Breach. Herc was never sure whether Scott was trying to provoke the Hassans or himself with his "hold" attempts in the Kwoon.<p>

In desperation, Herc even went up the chain. Marshall Ketteridge agreed to "have a word" with Scott, but Herc saw it in the drift, and knew exactly how much good that conversation would do.

_"A man's a man, Scott, but we've got a code of conduct!" _

_"Hey, neither of them are married or underage," _Scott protested, all innocence and knowing smirks.

Ketteridge wasn't much better. _"Yeah, but they're stiff little things. Probably it's a religion issue too. Muslim, you know. It's not worth it; get yourself a couple of blonde Jaeger Flies. Less bitching there, less drama in the Shatterdome._"

"_No challenge there," _Scott huffed, and Ketteridge laughed.

_"Just keep it out of the tabloids, eh? What you do off-base during off-hours is your business, but we've got a reputation with the other Domes, and you've got Herc's ankle-biter to consider. So pretend we're all good respectable gentlemen at work." _

_Thanks for nothing, Marshall, _Herc wanted to spit.

One week in, only Herc and the crews' constant vigilance had prevented Scott's little overtures from ending in blows and/or gunshots, and the Hassans weren't having anything to do with them except for mandatory training.

Their first two rounds in the team simulations were complete bloody disasters; Scott blamed the Hassans, the Hassans blamed the Hansens, and Herc was ready to do a conn-pod drop without the conn-pod.

He and the more diplomatic crew (though most of Team Vulcan - with some justification, he had to admit, were pretty thoroughly disgusted with their senior Rangers) tried to smooth things over, but it was guilt by association in a lot of Team Vulcan's eyes. Herc had tried to talk to Devi, apologizing yet again for Scott's immaturity, but also to reassure her, "I know he's a bit of a cad, but he's a good man."

Her lips thinned, and she'd given him a raking look that put him on the defensive. "You tell yourself that, Ranger, if it makes you sleep better. I'm surprised self-deception works in the drift."

_Well, fuck you too, love! _This was just a match made in heaven.

* * *

><p><em>July 2017…<em>

The Sunday before the first Mark-3 was slated to roll out from Anchorage, Herc had to admit he was looking forward to the Hassans departing, just for a relief from the tension. (Hence, he'd added his own voice to the semi-pleading chorus backing their request for leave to watch Gipsy Danger launch. That was probably the reason Ketteridge signed off on it.)

Even though, in his heart, he had to also admit it wasn't really the Hassans' fault. Scott had decided the sisters were hot when they were pissed off, and nothing could piss them off faster than his aggressive version of "flirtation."

The ice-breaker ended up being Max... and Chuck.

The Hassans must have known by now about Herc's kid; Chuck was a favorite topic of Dome gossip. After morning drills, Devi and Susanti departed to go running with some of Team Vulcan. Herc exchanged the usual curt nods as they passed, and that was. It was just as well that Scott was still asleep with a raging hangover.

But the weather was good, if brisk, and Herc seized the opportunity to get outside with the kid and the dog.

Chuck was in one of his sullen moods, so Herc didn't try to engage him in conversation. He just walked Chuck and Max out to the edge of the grounds and left them to it. On the water-side of the Dome, there'd be no paparazzi lurking, and the kid could run and throw a tennis ball with the pooch without fear of hitting something.

At least until the runners from Team Vulcan turned up again. Herc was doing katas fifty yards away, keeping half an eye on them, but followed the ball's trajectory and stood to shout a warning - _shit, too late. _Tennis ball went careening straight for the runners, and forty-five pounds of energy-driven muscle went galumphing after it.

Herc hurried toward them and braced himself for shouts and curses - but instead he got squeals. An equally-alarmed Chuck was also running to catch up with Max, and the two of them discovered Max in a clutch of giggling women, rolling around in ecstasy as they rubbed him from head to toe. In the thick of it, Devi and Susanti Hassan.

"Oy! Hi, there - oh!" Devi blinked as she took the measure of Chuck and Herc, and hurriedly stood up. "Don't worry, we're not dog-nappers." She dug up the ball from under their feet and tossed it back to Chuck.

"Who's this lovely boy?" asked Susanti, not pausing from rubbing the dog down, mindless of the drool Max was dishing out on her.

"That's Max," said Herc, when Chuck faltered. "My son, Chuck."

"Hullo, Chuck!" One of the LOCCENT techs – wasn't he a relative of the girls? – stepped to the front of the group and held out a hand. Chuck shook it quickly, but his eyes darted to Herc as if he wasn't sure he should be talking to this lot. Herc had tried to contain his (and Scott's) ranting at home, but doubtless the gossip mill had reached the kids. So Herc gave what he hoped was an encouraging nod-and-smile, and the man went on, "I'm Indra Hassan. My cousins, Devi and Susanti. They're your dad and uncle's new neighbors."

Foot-shuffling and awkward exchanged glances ensued. It was the younger Hassan sister who decided to wade through the tension. "Does Max fetch, or just chase?"

Chuck looked defensive, as if Max's character were being attacked. "He always brings it back!"

"Eh? Wanna show us?"

"Go, Max!" Chuck took the bait, and so did Max, who ripped up the already-abused turf as he tore after the airborne ball. Susanti and Devi exchanged a quick, wordless, and very-Rangerly look, and Susanti trotted after Chuck and the dog. Indra gestured at their cohorts to carry on running, but trailed more slowly behind, lingering with Susanti.

Herc and Devi stood watching as Max dutifully brought the tennis ball and several strings of drool back to Chuck, and Susanti wheedled him into letting her take a shot. The dog bounded off again to much praise from Indra, who drew Max's young owner out on the subject of dogs and Jaegers. Chuck smiled more easily with him; towards Susanti, he was almost shy.

Herc gazed at them in silence with his fellow Ranger, and was still debating what the next step would be when Devi Hassan, ten years his junior and less than half his pilot experience, took the first shot. "What d'you say? Wanna try this again?"

He chuckled. "Sure. We can't do that much worse on the second go-round, can we?"

"According to my friends across the lake, we can, but," she shrugged, her smile sheepish. "No reason not to try. Devi Hassan." She stuck out her hand, and he laughed out loud.

"Hercules Hansen." Hoping to hang onto their rediscovered good humor, he said quickly, "My partner's sleeping in, but I'll have a chat with him before I introduce you again. He'll behave."

The elder Hassan was quiet for several long moments as Indra demonstrated a new trick – bouncing the ball in sharp, high shots off the ground to see if Max could anticipate where it would land. Then Susanti threw the ball and both Indra and the dog chased it, and Chuck's laughter floated through the air. _That sound_…

"Sorry. I shouldn't have blamed you for him," said Devi. "I know how it goes. Fightmaster Tessori tells me there are so many blood relatives making the cut now that they're adding a course: How Not To Brain Your Damn Brat Sibling 101."

Hmm. Making Hansens laugh seemed to be a Hassan family skill along with piloting a Jaeger. Herc wouldn't have predicted that. "She seems all right."

"That's now, mate. Teen years? Ask Indra. Our parents were in despair; I'm still not sure how she got through undergrad. Every other day I was springing her from the lockup."

Well, maybe pretty Miss Susanti did have a wild side on the same scale as Herc's brother. He had to grin. "You got her through it, looks like. I'm still springing – well," _Shit, change the subject. _"Now you've met the worst-kept secret at the Sydney Shatterdome. He's fourteen next month. God help me when he starts driving."

"Any other boys his age on-base? Joy-riding a car, we can manage. Joy-riding a Jaeger could pose a problem."

Herc laughed. "Don't give him ideas. There's a few in their teens, but more competitive than friendly. They're all lining up for Academy already. Wait until you bring Vulcan to base – their minder bribes 'em with getting to stand around the rope line."

"Is that safe?!"

He nodded. "We had to lock 'em out for a few months while we checked the radiation levels, but Lucky's one of the few Mark Is that stayed in the safety band. Still got extra shielding installed, and everyone takes metharocin – the kids have a whole regimen to live on-base."

He didn't mention Stacker and Tamsin or Duc and Kaori. Class of 2016, Devi Hassan might have had one or more of them as an instructor; it wasn't his place to pass that around.

By the time Devi's sister and cousin had finally run Max and Chuck's energy levels down, it was looking wintry and rainy again. Chuck didn't even sulk when they shooed him inside, though he had to coax the sleepy Max along. Herc decided to let sleeping Scotts lie gestured to the Kwoon once he'd seen Chuck back to quarters. "You're off to the states for a few days tomorrow, right? Fancy a spar first?"

They took him up on it. Indra even stood in for his left-hand, and obviously knew the Bushido as well as his cousins did. For the first time since Team Vulcan had arrived in Sydney, Herc thought maybe they could make this work.

* * *

><p>But first, dealing with the final player on their four-man (four <em>person<em>, he corrected himself with a grin) team. He waited until Scott was up and moving and in a reasonably receptive mood, then hauled him outside for a chat. "I had a good spar with our teammates this morning."

"Eh? Good or _good?_" Scott leered, as Herc knew he would.

Herc slapped his face. It was a pretty casual, light slap, but Scott still sputtered. "Watch your mouth. This stops, now."

"What the – who're you, Tyrion Lannister?!"

Herc bared his teeth. He'd meant it more as a stand-in for an offended lady in ladylike fashion, but... "Now that you mention it..." He slapped Scott again and laughed at the sputtering. "I'll be the uncle today, brat. We've got a job to do, and a Shatterdome full of fellow officers, and from now on, every bloody one of them gets your respect whether you mean it or not."

"You can't just - " Scott caught himself and ducked the next swat. "Oy! That wasn't - OW!" Herc grabbed him by the ear and laughed harder. They were probably getting some weird looks from the MPs, but it couldn't be helped. "Geroff! What's up your ass, Herc, it's not my fault those prissy bitches - "

Herc shoved him against the wall and slapped him just a little harder, losing some of the playfulness. Scott saw it, and they locked eyes. "I _said... _this stops," Herc repeated, lowering his voice. "They're _Rangers_, they're _officers, _you refer to them as such, and the same with every other man and woman in the Corps, and I don't fucking care how much you want in their pants. Personnel are off-limits as of right fucking now!"

From the way Scott's jaw was working, Herc braced himself for switching from slaps over to punches, because he could imagine the bullshit that was about to come out of his brother's mouth. Why couldn't the birds take a joke? They were the ones turning up their snooty noses, and when had Herc turned into Miss Manners?

But Scott held it back and settled for a melodramatic sigh. "Allll right, Uncle, I'll play nice with the other children."

Herc patted his cheek instead. "Good boy. They're off to Alaska for the Mark-3 launch, but before they go, we're drilling with them again. We keep our eyes on the job." Scott pouted, and he rolled his eyes. "I know you're capable of being subtle when you want to. You don't touch outside of sparring, and keep your looking discrete. Besides, she's too young for you."

"Susanti? She's, what, twenty-one? Come on, that's legal!"

_For the love of - _"She's twenty-five, you bloody creepster!" He swatted his brother upside the head. "And for your information, you're _not _her type - at all. She doesn't go for men!"

"Ahhhrgh!" Scott's forehead dropped into his palm. "Why are all the hot ones on the other bus?!"

Herc had to laugh at him. "There are plenty of hot Jaeger Flies out there, and if you really go for twenty-one-year-olds, that's your problem. But if you want a respectable woman, try introducing yourself to her hand, not her tits."

He was a little anxious when the crews gathered for morning drills before the Hassans caught their plane back across the lake. But to his intense relief, the favorable reports starting to come in about the other teams' improvement stirred Scott's competitive spirit, so he was focused on hitting the goals set out by the Marshalls and Fightmasters, rather than hitting _on _their teammates.

Devi and Susanti were wary every time they had to be in arm's reach of him, but seeing Herc's watchful gaze and Scott's renewed attention on the actual fight, they gradually relaxed. However, Devi deviated from Bushido positions in her first one-on-one hanbo spar with him, and stopped the end of the staff below the stomach - aimed directly at Scott's balls.

There was no mistaking the warning in her eyes: _Step out of line again, and next time she'll "slip." Little sister could do it too. And I will laugh my ass off. _

However disgruntled Scott was each time he was bested by "a couple of Indonesian birds," even he and Ketteridge had to admit the Hassans were a damn good pair.

They could do this job.

_**To be continued...**_

_**Coming Soon: **__ Chuck's POV as he and the other Shatterdome kids witness Lucky Seven and Vulcan Specter going into their first battle against a kaiju. In the aftermath, Herc and Scott face their first experience with drift shock in __**Chapter Eight: Just Another Day at the Office!**_

**PLEASE don't forget to review!**

**Original Character Guide**

Marshall Blake Ketteridge: Commanding Officer of Sydney Shatterdome. Australia's senior liaison to the PPDC, a former Air Vice Marshall of the Royal Australian Air Force.

Devi and Susanti Hassan: Indonesian-Australian sisters, ages 27 and 25, who graduated the Academy along with Raleigh and Yancy Becket and Tendo Choi in the second half of 2016.

Indra Hassan: Devi and Susanti's cousin, age 37, failed the Jaeger Academy's second cut for drift compatibility but stayed on to become a LOCCENT technician. He serves the same role on Vulcan Specter's crew that Tendo Choi does for Gipsy Danger.


End file.
